


Mass Effect: Human Revolution, Book 1 - The Girl in Indigo

by IgnusDei



Series: Mass Effect: Human Revolution [1]
Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution, Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, nier automata
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2020-11-22 16:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 106,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20877035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnusDei/pseuds/IgnusDei
Summary: In order to preserve all his works and send a light into the dark future, David Sarif creates the Sarif Cache, storing within it precious knowledge on human augmentation, and his finest subject: Adam Jensen. Countless years later, Adam awakes to find that mankind has spread to the stars, and that Earth has no place for him anymore.After making a life for himself on the Citadel as a C-Sec detective, he finds himself embroiled in the galactic conflict started by Saren Arterius. On this Strange Journey, Adam Jensen will make frightening new enemies, exotic new friends, and will discover truths about his past that will change both himself and the universe forever...





	1. Prologue

Edgar Hein's shades vanished into his dark longcoat, so that he could better stare out to the black of space, past the thick glass of his office's windows. He had hoped that the strangely humbling sensation he usually felt looking out to the stars would smother the sorrow, but it the silent spectacle gave him no succor._  
_

Behind him, bedlam. Chairs had been thrown against a collection of priceless items from his past. That had been the first expression of rage he had indulged him since the bad old days. He had given himself time to process the news, but it hadn't been enough.

_Almost thirty years of work,_ he screamed in his mind._ Snuffed out by a cheap murder... my web of agents, unable to protect you. Was this a master stroke from my enemies? Or was it simply a fluke?  
_

Someone's voice came through the intercom._ "Colonel?" _said the man at the Conn._ "We're almost at the Citadel."_

_"_Understood," he replied, betraying no emotion. "Is the Copperhead fueled up?"

"Aye, sir. Do you want me to leave the Conn and—"

"—No, no, I can handle the old bird myself. I could use the practice."

"...Understood, sir. Flemming out."

_There are others_, Hein reminded himself. _Others I can call upon to become what I need them to be. And it just so happens one of them is waiting at our destination... yes, this was long overdue._

He sat at his desk, and activated a secret console. Its haptic emitters whirred to life, and a holographic avatar stared at him, awaiting for him to speak.

"Paragon is lost. I'm activating Galahad."

And within seconds, everything that could be collected on Adam Jensen had been sent to Hein.

** _[h+]_ **

* * *

CODEX ENTRY – Jensen, Adam

Adam Jensen (born in 1993) is the last known mechanically augmented human being since the Great Crash of 2052, as well as a veteran of the Corporate Wars of 2029.

One of the hundreds of subjects in the Sarif Cache found in old Detroit in 2175 (and thus far the only one to have been successfully brought out of stasis), Jensen's awakening has caused hundreds of legal and ethical debates in academic circles to erupt on Earth due to the legality of his extensive cybernetic modifications. Although he could not be charged since these laws were not _ex post facto_. Anti-augmentation advocates are now desperately trying to amend Article 1 Section 9 of the United North American States' Constitution to implement such laws, a factor in Jensen's decision to leave Earth in favor of the colonies.

He eventually attempted to settle on Elysium, shortly before Skyllian Blitz. Afterwards, he left for the Citadel, where he signed on as a C-Sec officer. He was quickly promoted to the rank of Corporal on C-Sec's Homicide Desk after finding enough evidence to put Cylenander, the Hanar serial child murderer, away for life.

CODEX ENTRY – Sarif Cache

In the aftermath of the Corporate Wars, a brief yet bloody conflict that claimed hundreds of thousands of lives, anti-augmentation sentiment (which were already reaching a boiling point due to the Pangea Incident) rose to new heights, and biotech legislation progressively went from regulation to outright ban.

David Sarif, a polarizing figure of his time and an ardent proponent of human augmentation, predicted what he described as a "dark age of technology". To preserve the works of his company and provide humanity "answers to questions it is ready to ask", Sarif spent a significant portion of his waning fortune into Project Legacy: the construction of a hidden underground bunker filled with electronic data storage and printed media on biotech and cybernetics. Most importantly, Sarif had hundreds of his staff cryogenically preserved in the underground facility. It was sealed in 2031, and discovered and opened in 2175 by archeologists.

Project Legacy's success as an elaborate time capsule is arguable: most of the technologies found within are now very illegal, but the schematics for the PEDOT Cluster led to significant advances in modern Biotic implants. To this day, various universities petition the UNAS Government for access to the cache, with little success. As for the frozen staff, over 20 percent of the Cryo-pods shut down due to power loss, and flaws in the thawing process means that the rest cannot be opened without great risk to the sleeper. Only one subject has been successfully brought out of stasis: a security guard known as Adam Jensen.

Culturally, the cache was an interesting look into the daily lives of people before the Great Crash of 2052. Articles of clothing, Artwork and various other pieces of entertainment electronics and media were put on display at a museum. Visiting Asari took well to the display, and now the "Neo-Renaissance" style of clothing and architecture is seeing resurgence on Asari colony worlds, especially on Ilium.

* * *

SHADOW BROKER DOSSIER – Adam Jensen

Subject: Jensen, Adam

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: March 9th 1993 (Earth Anno Domini Calendar) in Detroit, Michigan, United States

Nationality: Citadel Citizen, Former US American

Height: 1.90 m

Weight: 90 kilos

Hair color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Green Yellow (Artificial)

Blood Type: O Negative.

Profession: Currently employed by C-Sec as a detective. Former Chief of Security of cybernetics corporation Sarif Industries. Former SWAT Specialist.

* * *

**AUDIO FILE CTD 44551: Tela Vasir Recording (audio only):**

_TV: I had the pleasure of seeing Jensen at work during a bank robbery gone bad in Zakera Ward. He and I were already inside, in line to do our banking when ten armed Asari - some gang of maidens that like to call themselves the Daughters of Anarchy who were crazy enough to operate in the Citadel of all places – decided to barge in right through the front door and blasted the guards away with their combined biotics. I was in my civvies so I decided to play the part, discreetly alerting C-Sec with my omni-tool. Well, the Daughters of Whatever were smart enough to have a signal jammer on, and My SigInt program needed time to cut through the static. While I was doing this, Adam had simply vanished in the initial chaos. When the robbers spread out to secure the area and round up the civilians in case they'd need hostages…that's when things started to go wrong for them. One by one they stopped reporting in: some just went quiet; others screamed and then went quiet. And then there were two: The leader, this brick shithouse of a maiden carrying one of those big fuck-off shotguns the krogan are into, and this wired little bitch with an LMG. Too young to have any real experience, she cracked under the pressure and started shooting up the ceiling, screaming "Come on out, phantom!"_

_Nihlus Kryik: Did she hit any civilians?_

_TV: She was getting there, but then (laughs) but then –fuck me!- out of nowhere comes this fridge, fast as a cannonball, and it bashed right into her! She was out like a lamp!_

_NK: He used Biotics?_

_TV: Don't think so. No flare. _

_NK: That left the leader…_

_TV: Right. So the leader grabs this human girl – tiny, not much older than…oh, fourteen?I don't know - and puts that shotgun to her head. Classic hostage situation. I was getting ready to spring into action when this yellow golden glow in the shape of a man erupts some ten meters away from the leader and faded into Adam with his hands up. That was a surprise: I didn't know C-Sec had access to personal cloakers._

_NK: They don't._

_TV: Right, anyways. That gang leader? Still so new at this she makes all the classic demands you see in the vids: first she asks him to drop his weapon – which, by the way, was still holstered – and when she hears the sirens outside and changes her demands to a getaway car and a shuttle to Bekenstein… but you could tell she knew she wasn't in control of the situation._

_NK: She was bound to do something stupid. _

_TV: Well, it turns out our boy Adam has got a…what's the human expression? A silver tongue? He convinced her to let go of the kid well enough, but then she had a brilliant idea._

_NK: She figured a cop would make a better hostage?_

_TV: A cop that just took down her gang, no less. It didn't end well._

_NK: I can imagine: I just pulled the case file: she's in a coma right now with three broken ribs, a punctured lung and both arms broken in several places._

_TV: Got off easy._

_NK: So why didn't you intervene?_

_TV: Didn't have my gear. Also, I wanted to see him in action. Say…why are _you_ interested in him? _

_NK: I can't talk about it._

_TV: You know, you hear all kinds of things on the Presidium…_

_NK: Really._

_TV: Humanity is pushing for a human Spectre again…_

_NK: Hm-hm._

_TV: The Council taking that request seriously…_

_NK: Imagine that._

_TV: …You're scouting him for the Spectres!_

_NK: I can't talk about it._

_TV: Kryik, come on, if you can't trust your fellow Spectres, who can you trust?_

_NK: …It doesn't matter. If there's a list of candidates, Jensen's name wouldn't be in it for long._

_TV: Do I need to mention the fridge again?_

_NK: …I have a better idea of his abilities than you think. The fact of the matter is that a significant amount of people on Earth - important people - consider him to be a walking, breathing war crime. Humanity wouldn't want him as a Specter..._

_TV: …What about Elysium? You'd think they'd hail him as a hero._

_NK: Adam doesn't like media attention, and his role in halting the Blitz was downplayed by Alliance propaganda._

_TV: You sound disappointed. _

_NK: Politics shouldn't factor in Spectre recruitment... Only the worthy should be granted the responsibility. _

*Recording Ends*

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

* * *

**CTD FILE 1999: Audio transcript / Presidium:**

_Adam Jensen: Saren's hiding something! Every lead we pursued vanished without a trace. Every call, every extranet search we made was monitored or halted by the Spectres! They even hacked our computers!_

_Executor Pallin: That's the Spectres for you. I'll say one good thing about them: they look after their own…_

_Garrus Vakarian: Even when one of theirs is responsible for the deaths of thousands of civilians? Even when one is responsible for the death of another?_

_EP: You two seem to be under the impression that a Spectre causing the deaths of thousands is some kind of dire catastrophe worthy of the history books. For the Spectres, it's a Tuesday. They've gotten plenty of public accusations over the centuries; some of them false, some of them true, and they've learned to deal with them efficiently._

_AJ: Are you saying the Spectres are in on-_

_EP: I didn't say that. I'm saying getting accused of atrocities happens too frequently to the Spectres. After a while, they stopped caring if they're true or not. Defending their own is pretty much a reflex now. They only act against one another at the command of the Council._

_GV: Then let us keep investigating! If we find even a small piece of evidence that points to Saren being dirty, they'll gladly help us put his head on the chopping block!_

_EP: Not possible. The Council has already reviewed the evidence-_

_AJ: -which currently amounts to zero._

_EP: -and they'll make their verdict shortly._

_(sounds of footsteps. Three pairs)_

_GV: Give us more time! Stall them!_

_EP: Stall the Council? Don't be ridiculous. Your investigation is over, Detectives. _

_sounds of footsteps, one pair, fading away_

_silence, 10 seconds_

_Jun Shepard: So…um. How about those glow in the dark trees…I guess? Also, space._

_GV: Commander Shepard?_

_JS: The one and only. _

_GV: Garrus Vakarian, I was the officer in charge of the C-Sec investigation into Saren. This is my partner, Adam Jensen._

_AJ: Ms. Shepard._

_JS: Pleased to meet you both. So, just between you and me, did you find anything that might help me nail him to the wall or at the very least embarrass him in front of his friends?_

_GV: No. Saren's a Spectre. Anything he touches is classified-_

_AJ: -That didn't stop me, though. _

_Kaidan Alenko: You tried to hack into a Spectre's files? Damn._

_GV: And that wound up bringing down the wrath of the Spectres on our heads. They thwarted us at every turn. Couldn't find anything solid._

_JS: Damn._

_KA: I think the Council's ready for us, Commander._

_JS: Well, that's my cue. Detectives._

_AJ: Ms Shepard._

_End of Recording_

* * *

**VIDEO FILE CTD 04201C**

(tracking subjects: Commander Jun Shepard, Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams.)

(filtering background noise…done)

_Ashley Williams: Holy Mother of…that was_ him! _The _Monster!

_Jun Shepard: Who in the what now?_

_AW: The Frankenstein Monster! How can you not know about him?_

_KA: He _was_ all over the news on Earth back in '75._

_JS: Well goshdarnit would you mind explaining to this poor colony farmgirl what this Frankenstein nonsense is about? I swears I can't hardly keep up with all this core-world nonsense of yers!_

_AW: Well, the Franken-_

_JS: -I've read Mary Shelley, Chief. I just don't see the connection between a ruggedly handsome cop and a flesh golem animated by lightning._

_AW: You've seen his hands, right?_

_JS: So he's got prosthetic hands. Still not seeing the connection._

_AW: He's like this all over! Fake arms, fake legs, fake lungs, fake _heart._ Even parts of his brains are electronic!_

_KA: In other words he's mostly synthetic._

_AW: Right! What if he's controlled by Saren? What if he's been compromised by the Geth? You've seen those Husks!_

_JS: He didn't seem particularly overcome with the desire to eat my brains, Chief._

_AW: Nobody human modifies himself like that unless he's got a thirst for it. What if Saren offered him more mods?_

_KA: Well, they don't make augmentations like his anymore… could be tempting._

_JS: And you're making assumptions on his character based on…what? A one minute conversation and the fact that he's augmented up the arse? Chief, you realize that me and the LT are augmented, right? Hell, you've got gene mods yourself. _

_AW: Those gene mods keep me at peak human performance, well within what was meant to be, so that's not the same thing! And your implants are designed to help you manage your natural abilities…_

_JS: Chief, my abilities are the result of me breathing in too much Eezo as a kid. There's nothing natural about them. And because of those implants I need another one in my skull to remind myself who I am and who I'm supposed to know every once in a while._

_AW: You're…?_

_JS: Yep. And I've yet to sing the praises of Saren._

_AW: I'm sorry ma'am, I-I really shouldn't have said anything._

_tracking subject Captain David Anderson_

_DA: Jun!_

_JS: Sir!_

_DA: If you're quite done arguing with your _subordinates_, we've got a meeting with the _Council_ to attend!_

_(increasing audio volume)_

_JS: …ver could back down from a fight._

_DA: Probably your worst flaw._

_JS: Heh, yeah I-urgh._

_DA: Jun?_

_KA: Ma'am?_

_JS: I'm okay, I'm okay. I'm just overdue for a dose of Neuropozine._

_DA: Chakwas didn't give you your dose? _

_JS: You know what that shit does to me. Need to keep my head on straight… _

_End of Video_

_-0-_

**Audio Transcript: Presidium tower elevator**

(Muzak playing)

_Adam Jensen: I am NOT in the mood for this._

(Sound of Omni Tool activating)

Static

recalibrating mic…done

_Garrus Vakarian: …ittle extreme, don't you think?_

_AJ: Don't want to listen to this crap for the next twenty minutes and get it stuck in my head when I go to sleep._

_GV: Off to grab a few winks?_

_AJ: I've haven't slept in days, so yeah. What about you?_

_GV: Hm…I still got a few leads I need to check on. _

_AJ: Not giving up?_

_GV: …No. I can't. I know Pallin doesn't want me to keep at it…but Saren just rubs me the wrong way. What about you?_

_AJ: …I'm still in. You need me to tag along?_

_GV: Nah, I can handle this one by myself. Just get some rest. I'll keep you updated._

_AJ: Right._

_(Silence, 5 minutes door chime)_

_GV: Well, this is my stop. Sweet dreams, Jensen._

_AJ: Thanks._

_(door chime. Silence, 3 minutes)_

_AJ: (sigh)_

* * *

**Audio file - Phone Call – CSec Dispatch/Adam Jensen's apartment.**

_Adam Jensen: I'm up, I'm up._

_Ishoth Fazzik: Mister Jensen? We have a Code 98 at Aguilar Memorial hospital. Officers have already cordoned off the area. Executor Pallin has ordered your immediate-_

_AJ: -wait, wait, slow down. There's been a murder? Who's the vic?_

_IF: An Alliance Marine by the name of…[beeping sounds] Junko Zayne Shepard._

_(5 seconds of silence)_

_IF: Sir? Are you there?_

_AJ: I'm on my way._

_End of Recording_

* * *

**CODEX ENTRY: MEDICINE: Augmentation.**

Augmentation is a catch-all term for the sciences and technologies meant to improve the physical performance of an organic being through cybernetics, genetics or even simple chemicals.

The legality of augmentation varies from species to species, from method to method. The Citadel, however, strictly restricts bio-modification to enhance the existing abilities of a species. Adding new limbs and extra organs would be a violation of these laws.

Salarians happily embrace all forms of augmentations, although they prefer to apply it to more primitive species. Turians are lukewarm to the idea, but are willing to replace limbs with mechanical prosthesis and implant electronics in their soldier's brains to enhance battlefield awareness. Krogan are repulsed by the idea: enhancing themselves is essentially an admission of weakness.

Humanity is a peculiar case. While humans once attempted to embrace mechanical augmentation in the early decades of the 21st century, the social, political and economical turmoil caused by the technology is blamed for the Corporate Wars, the rise of the National Secessionist Forces, the worldwide pandemic called the Gray Death, and finally the Great Worldwide Crash of 2052 (better known as The Collapse). As a result, a deep hatred towards performance enhancing cybernetics still exists on Earth, and its laws on human augmentation reflect this. These laws have been slowly changed due the advent of human biotics, who need electronic implants to manage their abilities or become a hazard to themselves and everyone around them.

On the other hand, shortly after their recovery from The Collapse, humans were all too eager to engage in bio-modifying animals and micro-organisms. This has led to the creation of useful medical devices and treatments, such as Medi-Gel, which is now used throughout the galaxy.


	2. The Shepard Case

Adam couldn't bear to look into her eyes.

He had seen the same look in the eyes of a dead junkie lying down on a bench in the subway. It was on his first day on the job as a patrolman back in Detroit: the junkie was 17, had apparently been kicked out of his home, ran with the wrong crowd, got hooked to the needle, and caught a disease. Typical story. No health insurance. No education. No prospects. No one to give a helping hand.

No future. No hope. And he knew it. It's why he injected himself with a triple dose, but not even the incredible heroin high could dispel that look of hopelessness in his final moments.

Junko Zayne Shepard was staring out into nothing with the same expression. She would never fight again. She would never be a hero again. She would never be able to retire. She would never be able to settle down, get married, have kids – the whole white picket fence package. Did she even want it? The discoloration on her ring finger suggested to Adam that she might have, once upon a time.

The knife in her heart put a stop to that notion.

_Soak it in, _Adam told himself. _Remember that someone's responsible for this, and it's your job to put him in a tiny windowless cell for the rest of his natural life._

Adam resisted the urge to close Junko's eyes, his training reminding him not to contaminate the scene. He scanned the room again, making mental notes of any objects of interest: The body, the knife, the blood on the sheets and on the floor. The Holomonitor mounted on the wall. The medical scanner with its monitors turned off. The IV drip. The emergency cart complete with defibrillator. A bouquet of flowers - Cherry Blossoms - was resting on the commode. He turned to the forensics tech, an Asari Matron named Euridycia. She was busy scanning and cataloguing everything in the room with her Omni Tool for further investigation in a VR simulation of the scene. She and Adam's feet were floating an inch above the bloody floor thanks to a mass effect field put in place to prevent contamination of any potential evidence.

"Euri?" asked Jensen. "What have you got for me?"

Euri, always all business, answered in her detached manner: "Victim: Lieutenant Commander Junko Zayne Shepard, Alliance Marine Corps. Human (of European and Russian-Japanese descent) female of twenty-nine years of age. Height is one meter and eighty-two centimeters. Weight: 82 kilos. Cause of death…"

She motioned towards the blade buried in the corpse's chest.

"…severe trauma to the heart due to a bladed weapon."

"Can you tell me anything about the murder weapon?"

Euri typed on her Omni Tool. A holo of the weapon hovered above her hand.

"It's a Type 98 Alliance Navy utility knife. Standard issue for any Marine. No fingerprints."

"How hard is it to get one legally?"

"Not very. Military surplus stores sell them. Since it's not a mechanical weapon, there's no need for a permit to carry one on the Citadel."

"Hm, well, that's something to work with."

"Anything else?"

Something was bothering Adam: the last time he saw Shepard, she looked healthy and ready to take down a Spectre. What was she doing in a hospital?

"What was she being treated for?" he asked. "Some kind of disease?"

"No, she's an L3 Biotic," said Euri, as if the answer was self-evident.

"…That doesn't really tell me anything."

"Really? I thought it would, since you're a cyborg. Look, human biotics technology is still in its infancy: the implant architectures your scientists come up with have these quirks. L2 architecture implantees suffered from some pretty nasty side effects…but they could take their medicine without too many problems. The L3s were supposed to be more stable, except that all L3 Biotics don't react very well to Neuropozyne. A small percentage of them, which our victim was unfortunately part of, react really, really badly to the compound."

To Adam, the existence of Neuropozyne in the 2180's was one hell of a surprise. When he was thawed, Adam figured Sarif or someone else had reconstructed Megan's research into the gene therapy necessary to make Nu-poz completely obsolete.

"What kind of reaction do they get?"

"The implants cause every single element zero node in their bodies to flare. They essentially Warp themselves apart. It's not pretty. In order to counteract this…"

Euri brought out another file in her Omni, and then continued: "…the L3 is given a specialized artificial enzyme - an acetylcholine inhibitor- along with the Neuropozyne to shut down his or her peripheral nervous system and her eezo nodes along with it."

"So she was effectively paralyzed?"

"Yes."

_She couldn't fight back, _Adam thought to himself bitterly. "Any other health issues?"

"Yes, the enzyme can also cause moderate to severe memory loss. In order to deal with it, she got this."

Euri brought out another holograph out of her omni. To Jensen, it looked a lot like a neural hub, only smaller. "What am I looking at?" he asked.

"A graybox," she answered. "It's basically a memory recorder."

That piqued Adam's interest. Getting a look at Shepard's last moments could be useful if any other leads dried up. Euri sensed Adam's intentions from his expression and smiled.

"I've got a request to extract the implant all typed up and ready to send to C-Sec Legal. Once they get permission from next of kin, I'll be able to get her final moments on video."

"Send the request. I'll take what I can get. And while we're on the subject of healthcare…" Adam pointed at the medical scanner. "Wasn't this monitoring her vitals? Shouldn't the nurses have been alerted the moment her heart stopped?"

Euri simply walked up to the machine and turned it on. It kept on beeping, signaling a rhythm that was no longer there.

"Hacked," Adam concluded. "Inside job?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Euri answered as she silenced the machine. "The machine does have a data jack for updates and maintenance, but it is also linked up to the local network. I have a tech at their server room looking over the logs."

"Let me know when he finds something."

"Will do. Is there anything else?"

"Got anything off the floor?"

"Just bootprints. It was difficult finding the residue on the cold, self-sanitizing metal floor (the blood didn't help) but I managed to stop the auto-cleaner in time."

"Anything out of the ordinary?"

Euri brought out several 2D holographs of shoe prints. "Not really…mostly nurse's clogs. There's a few prints of a marine's boots, men's size…" she winced. "…eleven? Confirmed to belong to Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko of the Alliance Marine Corps. He was the visitor that found the body and alerted the staff."

Adam quickly scanned the shoe prints with his eyes: most of them were partial and incomplete, but two sets of the marine boots' prints were complete and clear…and one was a bit smaller than the other. He pointed at it.

"I'm pretty sure this set of boot prints is ten and a half. We've got someone else in the crime scene, looks like."

Euri was a little flustered, and then realized her mistake. "Goddess! Thanks! I can't make sense of your human measuring systems! Your Canadians say it is eleven, your Chinese call it twenty-six...Can't you just go by metrics?"

"Right. Honest mistake." Adam tried not to sound too condescending.

"Mistakes like this can ruin a case, Jensen. You know that." Euri sighed and promptly reorganized the holographs.

"Where did you find those size tens?"

"There," she said, pointing at the spot. "Right by the left hand side of the bed."

Adam walked over to the spot and briefly put himself in the killer's place. Yes, definitely the right spot to plunge a knife into someone's heart.

"So, our killer is likely an Alliance Marine," said Adam.

"Or an Alliance fanboy," commented Euri.

"Either way, this was definitely personal. A good hitman knows how to make a kill look like an accident. Pretty good opportunity for that here: Victim's got a severe medical condition. Just stop the IV from giving her the enzyme and wait as her Eezo nodes do the rest of the work. We dismiss it as an accident. Case Closed. But then our killer ignores that and goes for a knife kill?" Adam pointed at the blade stuck in Shepard's chest. "And then leaves the weapon _in_ the body?"

"You're assuming a hitman did this. Could just be a nutcase."

"Then we've got a meticulous nutcase. I saw her alive at the presidium some eight hours ago. During that time, our killer found out about her medical condition, where she was going to get her treatment, potentially did a hack job on the hospital's network, and got into this room without anyone noticing. That takes planning. Professional planning."

"And hacker support."

"That too. I think I've got what I need here." Adam activated his Omni-tool. "Give me what you've got so far."

Euri complied, and a radial progress bar appeared between their Omni tools. "I'm almost done here. I'll have the body transferred to the morgue soon." Her Omni beeped, signaling a complete upload.

"Right, let me know if you find anything else."

**~[** _h_ **+]~**

Ashley Williams was standing next to Lieutenant Alenko in the patient lounge, unsure as to what to do…even though she knew she should. When her father passed away, her whole family had come together in mourning. She had given a shoulder to cry on to Sarah and Mom, an attentive ear to Lynn, and a hug for Abby. When it came time for the burial, she recited _Ulysses_ aloud, and every year since then, Ashley had _Ulysses._ It's how the Williams had overcome their grief.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to comfort the lieutenant. She could see he was crushed, slumped on the red corner couch looking more silently devastated than any soldier ought to be for his CO…which made things all the more awkward for her. It didn't help that she knew him for a grand total of two days. Likewise for Shepard. How do you approach someone in grief when you barely know them?

_You owe them both your life,_ she reminded herself. _Try._

She walked over and laid an armored hand on his shoulder. "LT?" she asked. He barely reacted. "…I know what you're going though."

Alenko didn't say anything.

"…I don't know how close you and the commander were…"

Still nothing.

"…but if you need someone to talk to…I'm right here, you know?"

Again, nothing. _Dammit, I'm not a grief counselor, _she though._ I just shoot things. _She nodded, and then proceeded to maintain a respectable distance from the Lieutenant. Minutes passed. Then:

"We were going to get married," said Alenko, more to himself than Ashley. As he said this, she could hear the door behind her hiss. Ashley took a quick glance behind her. Blue Coat. Ballistic Jacket. Shades. Poorly maintained pointy short boxed beard. _Aw, crap._

Kaidan continued: "We did our best to keep the relationship a secret. Regulations and all that. After Torfan she decided that 'life was too short to wait'. And then she gave me this." He fondled his silver engagement ring.

"Interesting," said Adam Jensen as he approached the two marines. "That's one question off the list."

**~[** _h_ **+]~**

**CODEX ENTRY: Neuropozyne**

_Neuropozyne, or Nu-poz, is a compound that prevents and cleans up the buildup of glial nerve tissue around the nerve/electrode junctions required for mechanical prostheses and biotic implants to function in humans. Without Neuropozyne, the "nerve scarring" would eventually disrupt the connection between implant and implantee, causing a painful rejection syndrome._

_Before the Collapse, Versalife corporation was the only holder of the patent to produce the drug. After the Collapse, samples of the drugs made their way to other biotech firms. Despite the ban on human augmentations, there was still a market for fully functioning prosthetic limbs for amputees. This encouraged research into improving the formula. Today, a single dose of Neuropozyne can stave off rejection syndrome for as long as 3 months. Biotics, however, due to the mutagenic properties of their Eezo nodes, tend to suffer moderate to severe side-effects when taking a dose. Improvements to the formula are being made every day. Research into alternative methods of preventing implant rejection (such as gene therapy, hypoallergenic nerve junctions, or even a completely different compound) is ongoing, but so far no results are forthcoming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, what did I get myself into? This wasn't supposed to be a murder mystery! But hey, Jensen's a cop, and I had to come up with a plausible way for him to get involved with the main storyline without making him a human Garrus. How will he land in the Normandy? Stay tuned and find out!
> 
> My apologies to any Neurobiology and Forensics buffs reading this. I admit that my knowledge of such matters is limited to TV, LA Noire, and whatever I read on Wikipedia. Feel free to point out any glaring errors, I'll correct them.


	3. Persons of Interest

**The Shepard Case, Day 1: Aguilar Memorial hospital**

Ash was staring out the window, admiring the view of the artificial river that ran throughout the presidium's ring while the _cyborg_ harassed the LT with the standard set of cop questions. She stood there, feeling a little self-conscious since she was in full gear, complete with combat hard-suit and PALS webbing. When she had been told that Commander Shepard, the hero Torfan, had been murdered, she handled it about as well as a marine being told "we're under attack!" and prepared accordingly. Anderson had approved, as he himself thought it prudent to wear a personal shield. Much to her disappointment, he drew the line at assault rifles and grenades. "We're not starting a war," he had said. "Pistols only. That's an order, Chief."

_Saren started a fucking war, _Ash thought to herself as she watched hovercars fly above the bridge-like building she was standing in. _And God Willing, I'll be there to finish it. _

And then her ears perked up. The LT was getting a bit agitated.

"What are you trying to say?" the Lieutenant asked, and edge to his voice.

"Just answer the question," said the cop.

"_I didn't kill my fiancée,_"Alenko insisted, angrily.

Was Jensen trying to start something? Ash's training kicked in, and she sized him up for a fight. She was fairly confident she could take him…but she remembered just how extensively augmented he was. Too many unknowns…although she was fairly confident a bullet to the head would kill him, augmented or not. She thought about deploying her helmet to bring up her HUD and get a scan on his ballistic vest's shields… but the noise might have alerted him.

Ash shook her head.

_Stop that._

She had to remind herself that she wasn't in a battlefield. Again. Meanwhile, detective Jensen continued:

"Right, but was she _still_ your fiancée?" Jensen pressed on.

"Of course she was!"

"Really? Then why didn't she have her ring on? And a bouquet of real, all-natural imported flowers? From where I'm standing, it looks like the wedding was off."

Kaidan was surprised, then incredulous. "What flowers?"

"Cherry Blossoms. There's a bouquet of them on the commode in Shepard's room. I assume you bought them?"

"Well you assumed wrong!" Alenko stood up, angry. "If we _were _fighting, flowers wouldn't be the way I'd make peace! She hated the things!"

"And the ring?"

"I don't know! Maybe one of the med techs took it off for some reason or…or some jackass stole it!"

Jensen said nothing as he looked intently at Alenko's face. Ash, from where she was standing, could swear he was sizing Alenko up…but not for a fight.

"Alright," Jensen finally said. "I believe you." At this, Kaidan began to calm down.

"Look, are you sure? You…didn't find her ring in her room? At all?"

"The forensics tech took a complete inventory of the room, personal effects locker included. It's not on the list. I'm sorry."

"Did the killer steal it?"

"…It's possible. You're certain she had it on when you left her?

"Definitely.'

"Is Shepard's ring a match for yours? Similar engravings, same brand?"

"Yes. There's even a matching microscopic barcode and serial number on the inside."

"I'm going to need a scan of your ring, if you don't mind." Jensen's Omni flared up, and after a few beeps. The scan was done. "Do you have a permanent address on the Citadel?"

Kaidan jut shook his head.

"Then I'm also going to have to ask you to stay in the Citadel and keep in touch with C-Sec."

"I guess we're done?"

"For now, yes," answered Adam as he turned and made his way to the elevator.

**~[** _h_ **+]~**

"What an asshole." Adam heard the soldier say to Alenko in a hushed tone. Adam smirked a bit: few knew his hearing was augmented with cochlear implants.

"He was just doing his job, Chief." Alenko answered.

"He doesn't even check out your alibi and then accuses you of killing the Commander? That's a dick move if I ever saw one."

"He didn't accuse me of anything. I…" Kaidan sighed. "…I just jumped the gun on that one."

Adam didn't like it, but he did manipulate Alenko with that one. Adam's CASIE wasn't getting too much out of the lieutenant between an emotional baseline of "depressed" and his avoidance of eye contact. A release of pheromones and an implied accusation of theft shot the readings up, and the micro-expression scans were able to tell Adam this much: Kaidan Alenko didn't steal his wife's ring and was certain that she had it on when he left her, and he didn't bring her those flowers.

_That gives me two potential leads to follow: Someone had pried that ring off Shepard's finger just as she was going cold. The killer likes trophies? Maybe, maybe not. Could be an opportunistic thief in the hospital staff. Still, might be worth checking out that pawn shop in Zakera. They never ask for ID, but they have very good memories._

Adam pressed the elevator button.

_And then there are the flowers. If what Alenko told me is true, nobody that knew Shepard would get her flowers as a "get well" present. Could be from a new acquaintance. Could be from the killer. Insult? Calling card? Symbolic message? All possible. I need more info._

The doors opened_,_ and a couple of medical techs walked out of the very spacious elevator. Adam got in, pressed the main floor's button and activated his Omni to review the forensics files he had just downloaded from Euridycia. He conjured up the bouquet of cherry blossoms on his holographic display, and several small windows sprang up, orbiting the 3d image. They detailed the genetic make-up of the flowers (which made them genuine), their mass and volume and other, more arcane streams of data in walls of text that barely made any sense to Adam. He sighed: he regretted not being into the whole science thing, sometimes. Still, he understood one thing: there were no prints, not on the petals, not on the branches, and not even on the non-descript paper used to wrap them together. There weren't even any traces of DNA from skin flakes. Someone had been needlessly careful with the whole bouquet.

_Either we're dealing with a florist with obsessive compulsive behavior disorder or the one who dropped in the bouquet didn't want to be found. _

Adam felt the elevator stop and soon afterwards, the doors slid open. He got out into main lobby, his nose still in his omni's holographs. Curious about the symbolic angle to the flowers (if any), Adam booted up his Codex and ran a search on Cherry Blossoms. A wall of text and a couple of hyperlinks, Adam had learned quite a bit from the flower itself, its cultivation, its culinary applications, and some Japanese concept of appreciating the beauty of things in their impermanence (something the flower apparently symbolized). He was about to familiarize himself with four variants of the _Prunus _genus of trees before he reminded himself that there just wasn't enough time for a wiki-walk. There was a killer to catch.

Also, he was just standing there, and people were beginning to stare. A C-sec sentry posted near the elevator included.

"Jensen?" asked the Turian officer. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Adam answered, a little embarrassed. He started towards the exit.

_Impermanence. Beauty. Some kind of sick fetish for killing beautiful young women before they got old? A message? A taunt? Shepard was of Japanese descent: if anyone knew what the flowers were supposed to represent, it would have been her (assuming she kept up with her cultural origins). Then again, she's dead, so what's the point?_

There was, interestingly, another fact about cherry blossoms that caught Adam's attention: They were much rarer on earth than he had previously thought. Because to ecological damage on Earth due to the nuclear conflicts that erupted shortly after the Collapse, the only places where Cherry Blossoms still bloomed on Earth were the Botanical Gardens in Montreal and Queen Elizabeth Park in Vancouver. Up until 2170, Mindoir cultivated Hill Cherrytrees as part of an experiment. Only one remained there, serving as a memorial.

If anything proved that the flowers were significant, if not to this case, that was it: importing common flowers was expensive due to the costs of keeping them fresh while they sit for days or even weeks in a warehouse while they're being processed in customs (not to mention the costs of shipping). Florists that import their goods have to charge quite a sum for their wares to make a profit.

_But rare flowers that decay in no time at all? The costs of importing would be enormous! Who would bother to pay?_

To answer his question, Adam started a C-web search for any flower shop that sold cherry blossoms. He didn't think he'd have a big list: anyone that dealt in rare imported flowers would be rich enough to set up in the Presidium, where the rich clientele that could afford it would be. Small market, that.

As expected, he only got four hits. All of them were for stores which sold plastic replicas of the blossoms. None of them sold the real deal.

_Well, that puts a damper on things._

Before Adam could pursue this further, something caught his attention. A young Alliance marine in his sailor's uniform (complete with a navy blue beret) was arguing with an Asari receptionist. She was far more interested in typing on her computer than listening to his slightly nasal voice, something that was no doubt frustrating him a great deal.

"You must have seen _something_ out of the ordinary," said the marine. He was trying to sound confident, but there was a nervous edge to his voice. Adam smirked a little: he saw this happen all the time when kids barely out of high school tried to talk to a real live Asari for the very first time.

"You see everything coming through that door," said the receptionist, "from hanar with venereal diseases to elcor suffering from bipolar disorder. After a while, it all just kind of blended into my definition of ordinary. So, once again: No, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary."

The marine deflated a bit, but he looked like he wasn't quite ready to give up. "Well, did you see anyone that looked like a killer, or out to kill someone?"

_Is this kid for real?_

Not even looking up from her laptop, the receptionist shot back. "You know the funny thing is about killers? I hear they look just like you and me! If they didn't, we wouldn't need the police to find them and put them away, now would we?"

Adam had to agree.

The receptionist's vidphone rang. A quick glance at it, and she fingered her headset.

"Look, Lieutenant, I have to take this. Unless you have a medical emergency or an appointment, I can't help you."

The marine was indignant. "Hey! Don't shut me out!" he demanded. Of course, she already had and was greeting the caller with practiced courtesy. "Aguilar Memorial Hospital, how may I help you?" she said, completely ignoring the young marine. Adam thought it wise to get the kid's attention before he did something stupid and/or embarrassing. He walked besides the young marine and cleared his throat.

"Is there a problem here?"

**~[** _h_ **+]~**

Corporal Richard L Jenkins, Alliance Marine, turned to his right in the direction of a smoker's voice, to find himself face to face with a tall human in a blue leather longcoat (were those flowers printed on the shoulders?) staring down at him from behind dark, golden mirror shades that seemed glued to his skin. He was imposing: broad shouldered and easily fifteen centimeters taller than Jenkins himself. Jenkins hated to admit, but he was feeling a little intimidated.

Damned if he was going to show it, though. He had survived Eden Prime and fought cyber zombies and killer robots. He wasn't going to be spooked by some basketball player in a candy-ass looking coat! He had a mission to accomplish!

"Alliance business. Nothing that should concern you, citizen." Jenkins had put on his best 'Gallant Soldier' impression. Now, the guy would move along and…

"Oh?" exclaimed the man. "I hope it's nothing too serious, Mister…?"

_He's not buying it. Quick! Sound impressive and authoritative!_

"I'm Lieutenant Richard…B. Riddick."

_Don't look at my chevrons don't look at my chevrons_

'Riddick' continued: "I'm here to investigate the death of a fellow Alliance Marine."

_That ought to scare him a little._

The bespectacled man didn't flinch, not even a little. "Ah, so that's what the commotion on the bridge section was about! But I thought C-Sec was already taking care of that?"

'Riddick' snorted, his utter contempt for the glorified mall cops all too apparent. "Oh, this is way out of C-Sec's league." He took a quick, nervous glance towards the hospital's entrance: Captain Anderson and Senator Udina were still arguing outside.

"…Is that so?"

"Yeah, our prime suspect, Saren Arterius? The guy behind the attack Eden Prime? Well, he's our main suspect in this case. But the Council wanted _C-Sec_ to dig up evidence against him, and since they're too damn stupid to pour pee they botched the investigation and now the rest of the Spectres won't move against him. Heh, big surprise, right?"

"Right, so…Now the Alliance has taken it on itself to bring Saren to Justice, is that it?"

"Exactly. Now, if you'll please move along? This woman _definitely_ knows more than she lets on." And with that, Lieutenant Richard B. Riddick dismissed the man and got back to his mission.

Then, Corporal Richard L. Jenkins felt an iron grip on his right shoulder and he was spun, finding himself suddenly stared down at by a pair of yellow-green, metallic eyes. The pain in his shoulder made him wince. The stare made him gulp a little.

"Can I just say a few things?" said the tall man. "First, two chevrons on your shoulder doesn't make you a Lieutenant, _Corporal._ Second, I saw those movies too, _Vin._ Third, I'm guessing that the man in the officer's uniform talking to Udina just outside is your superior and that he hasn't got an inkling as to your so-called _mission_. And fourth…

The man parted his coat with his right hand, revealing a silvery C-Sec detective's badge.

"Citadel Law is pretty clear on unauthorized civilian and military interference in C-Sec investigations, regardless of intent to assist or hinder. Penalty's a four hundred thousand credit fine and 3 days in jail. You'll be in great company: over the past week we busted a Krogan arms dealer, a crazed biotic junkie responsible for exposing the Shao Yong building to the black, and Matriarch Eneles. You'll like her. Well, maybe not, but she'll definitely like you. She's got this thing for wearing fine _human skin_."

And with that, the detective let Jenkins go.

"Is there a problem here?" asked Captain Anderson. Jenkins was relieved, then remembered protocol and quickly saluted.

The detective answered quickly. "The corporal here falsely claimed to be an Alliance Military CO tasked with investigating a murder under C-sec jurisdiction. I'm not one hundred percent familiar with Alliance military regs but I'm sure they don't look kindly on a grunt pretending to be an lieutenant and harassing civilians under false pretenses…"

Anderson cast a withering glare at Jenkins, who stammered: "I-I was just trying to help! Find enough intel to catch the killer!"

"So you don't deny it?" asked the Captain.

"Well…no?"

"Son?" asked Anderson, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you or have even been an MP? Have you had any law enforcement training of any kind?"

"…No sir."

Udina walked up behind Anderson at that very moment. "Now, now, he may not have been an MP but surely such a clever young man such as this must be well on his way to joining the JAG? To help C-Sec with Alliance legal issues, surely?"

"No sir…I'm not…I'm not with JAG." Jenkins was utterly crushed. Only now was he beginning to realize just how out of his depth he was, and what a fool he had made of himself.

"_Wonderful_," Udina's voice was dripping with scorn. "Anderson, would you like to take care of this or should we let the detective take corporal Jenkins to his 'accommodations' for the night?"

**~[** _h_ **+]~**

"I'll take care of this," stated Anderson with a cold edge of anger to his voice. "Corporal, come with me."

"Good," said Udina. "Detective Jensen, if I could have a word with you?"

With Jenkins in tow, Anderson made his way towards the elevator.

"Jenkins, what part of 'stay with lieutenant Alenko' did you not understand?"

"I err, I understood clearly, sir."

"Did the lieutenant dismiss you?"

"No, sir."

"Then why did you disobey my order?" the captain asked as they reached the elevator. He pressed the call button.

"Well-"

"And did some Admiral come in out of the blue and give you a field promotion, corporal? Or is it _lieutenant?_"

Jenkins was about to say something, but Anderson wasn't quite done.

"Do you know how severely the brass punishes grunts that impersonate officers? We're not just talking about a few days in the brig, here. You're looking at a permanent black mark on your record! You'll be on shit list of every commander in the fleet! You'll be lucky to even hold a gun ever again instead of a _mop_."

To Anderson's surprise, Jenkins suddenly grew his spine back: "I don't mind holding a mop for the rest of my life if it means helping catching Saren, sir!"

"And how in the hell did you plan to accomplish that from the comfort of a C-sec cell?"

"I don't know! I didn't think that far ahead but-"

"-but what, corporal?"

"Shepard's dead, sir! Dead!"

Anderson had been told. He had been told when he woke up this morning from the mouth of Udina just this morning. He heard it from Kaidan, who confirmed seeing the body over the phone. And hearing for a third time from Jenkins did little to blunt the shock of it.

"You should have seen her on Eden Prime," Jenkins continued. "When those Geth scout drones came out of nowhere and she was caught in the open, I thought it was over! But then she conjures up a wall of blue fire held together by will and rage and she practically _dared_ everything and everyone to try and kill her. Geth Troopers, Rocket Drones, those…things from the spikes? Nothing stopped her, Nothing! Everything that stood in her way died! She survived that, she survived Torfan, she survived Mindoir! If anyone could have brought Saren to justice, it would have been her! No one else!"

Jenkins tried to hold back his tears, but was failing.

"And now she's dead! Th-they put th-that _poison _in her and then someone just sticks a knife in her heart while she sleeps? I-I can't accept that, sir! I can't! I have to do something!" Jenkins started to weep. "Anything! I have to make this-" he whimpered. "I have to make this right!"

Anderson knew exactly what Jenkins was going through. Had expected it, in fact. Young, talented soldiers still maintained the delusion of invincibility and suicidal overconfidence of their teenage years. That delusion was often shattered by a healthy dose of the reality of war, and contrary to what the vids liked to portray, war was not glorious. At best it was organized slaughter. At worst it was guts, screaming and all kinds of disturbing behavior. Eden Prime wasn't the worst, but it was close.

But, as Shepard put it: "That boy is such a puppy! He hangs on to my every word like it was gospel and follows me around whenever he's awake! It's _adorable_."

As a child, Jenkins had lost his father to disease, a factor in his intense desire for a mentor and hero figure both, and he had quickly latched on to Shepard as such. It was a role she was, to Anderson's surprise, quite willing fulfill. Anderson was concerned, however, when the young marine quickly revealed to have a somewhat unrealistic and black and white worldview built up by being virtually raised on cartoons. When Saren had taken on the role of the Bad Guy, Jenkins spirits had gone up immensely: Shepard would fight Saren. She would win. The Bad Guy would die, and all would be right in the galaxy. After seeing his home burn, Jenkins was quite happy the idea of being at her side when she inevitably won.

Eden Prime had been a loss. It could have been so much worse, but it hadn't been like a victory (as Jenkins would have defined it). Eden Prime had wounded Jenkins' confidence, and Shepard's death had turned his world upside down: the Hero died. The Bad Guy won. There was no glorious battle. Only a massacre, burnt fields, shattered homes, and a cheap murder. Nothing would ever be the same for Jenkins.

"Am I suspended, sir?"

"…I won't report this to the brass, son. I understand why you did it, and I'm glad you didn't do anything rash. But Jenkins? Remember what Shepard said?"

"…You're not alone in this."

"That's right, son." Anderson put his hand on Jenkin's shoulder. You're not alone in this. You didn't have to go off on your own like that. And we're not taking this lying down, I promise you. Sooner or later we ARE going after Saren, and when we do you're going to be there. Alenko will be there. And God willing, I'm going to be there too. That's a promise." It was what Jenkins needed to hear, and relief had washed over the young marine quickly.

Of course, he couldn't quite leave Jenkins' lack of common sense unpunished, he would order him back on the ship and-

Ding.

The elevator doors opened. Inside it were four occupants: Lieutenant Alenko, Gunnery Chief Williams, an Asari forensics tech and a Turian C-Sec officer. They were surrounding a morgue slab. On the slab was something in the shape of a body, covered in a white sheet.

Anderson could vaguely hear the tech apologize, that they were headed down to the morgue. The chief saluted quietly. The lieutenant said nothing.

Anderson approached the slab; his ears dull to noise and voice. He reached out to the shape, where the head ought to be. He thought he heard the tech protest, but he didn't care. He pulled the sheet back, revealing the cold, pale face of Shepard.

Shepard was dead. He had been told. Now he saw.

For a moment, he was back on Mindoir. He was back in that greenhouse. That teenage girl with the knife, sitting in a corner in a fetal position, her lightly freckled face covered by her knees. _Make them pay._ Two dead batarians lay nearby. Their eyes were stabbed out, their guts were spilled. A turian corpse was outside, his chest caved in, his skin riddled with shards of glass. All three died in agony.

Her clothes were ripped. _Make them pay._

_Make them pay. _She was rocking back and forth. _Make them pay, _she said. Over and over and over again. Like a mantra. A prayer.

_Make them pay._

He put down his gun. He removed his helmet. "Easy there," he had reassured her. "It's okay. It's over."

He barely registered to her: "I have to make them pay."

"I know, sweetheart. But it's over. They're all dead." He reached out to her. "Here, take my hand…"

"You can't help me. I have to make them pay. They _all_ deserve to _pay_."

"Sir?" Jenkins prodded, and Anderson mind was back in the elevator, looking at Shepard, and her blank, dead stare. He reached out. _Don't tamper with the body_, his mind had told him, but he couldn't resist the urge to restore some semblance of his former pupil's dignity. The tech protested. He didn't care. He gently closed Shepard's eyes, and Jenkins respectfully removed his beret. Kaidan simply watched.

_Soak it in, _Anderson told himself. _Remember that Saren is responsible for this. And it's your calling to put a bullet in his skull and end his miserable shit stain of a life._

"We will make him pay, Jun."

**~[** _h_ **+]~**

**CODEX ENTRY: CASIE ver 2.3**

_The _ **CASIE** _, or _ **C** _omputer _ **A** _ssisted _ **S** _ocial _ **I** _nteraction _ **E** _nhancer, was a cranial implant that made use of the user's vision and hearing to analyze another human being for the purpose of social interaction, providing useful data about their personality in order to better psychologically and emotionally manipulate them. Upgrades to the system include a pheromone emitting system._

_In 2028, the 2.3 update supported micro expression detection, granting the user the ability to detect deception during high stakes negotiations or interrogations. This made the CASIE extremely invaluable to police enforcement and diplomats, but also to kidnappers and conmen. The device was heavily regulated shortly after its release to the public market. By 2052, only law enforcement and counter-intelligence agencies could legally have their agents implanted with the augmentation._

_After the Collapse, the CASIE implant was succeeded by the VK series of scanners. The whole device can be stored in a small suitcase, but a warrant is required for it to be used in police interrogations._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on making this chapter longer, but then I decided that this was a pretty good point to stop for now. Plus, it took me way too long to write this. I hate to say it, but this was incredibly difficult to write. My head keeps moving ahead in the story, and I couldn't focus on the "here and now" of his chapter. I dream of cyborg kung-fu action and gunfights and epic duels, but none of that belongs in this chapter.
> 
> Well, here we've had a look into Adam's thought processes. Youtube critics of the Human Revolution storyline have pointed out Adam's leaps of logic that advanced the plot, and while I can't argue that they're wrong, I like to think that Adam thinks a little unconventionally. I mean, really? Flowers? Come on. Here he also demonstrates that he has little patience for idiots getting in his way.
> 
> Oh yeah, Jenkins' alive. Why? I never really liked it when the game took control away from me just to service drama. Shepard's such a badass but s/he sends the grunt in forward to be cannon fodder? Would a Vanguard do that? I personally don't think so. Sure, it's probably military protocol, but still…
> 
> Jenkins also serves as a personification of the emotional and psychological repercussions of Shepard's death from the perspective of, say, a fan, along with Anderson's fatherly perspective.. Kaidan is just too stoic for the job and Ashley barely knew the woman.
> 
> Oh, and speaking of military protocol, I actually have no idea what the real-life punishment is for a NCO pretending to be a CO, but I imagine it would be more severe than depicted here.


	4. I am the reinforcements.

_Adam Jensen loathed Donnel Udina. Likewise, Udina loathed Adam. The reason was simple: he was the only C-Sec officer the Ambassador had no real pull over. Admission into C-Sec was a bit more prestigious than most people were aware of. Besides requiring years of service in either the military or a planet's police force, applicants needed to be sponsored by a Citadel Councilor or, barring that, the ambassador of an associate Council race. That meant that if you were human and you wanted to be in C-Sec, you had to go through Udina, and Udina was no philanthropist. If you were human, and you made it into C-Sec, it meant you scratched Udina's back, and if you were in trouble, he would definitely scratch yours to keep face._

Adam had been an unforeseen anomaly: after C-Sec had contracted Adam to take down the Seven, Executor Pallin himself had offered him a position into the ranks of C-Sec upon his success, bypassing Udina completely. The Ambassador took umbrage at that, shouting at the Executor that Adam was a pariah on earth and that accepting him was an insult against all of humankind.

Pallin, of course, didn't give a damn about what Udina or all of planet Earth had to say about the cyborg. Adam had been instrumental in stopping a gang of up-and-coming young terrorists: thousands of lives had been saved. The next day, Officer Adam Jensen put on his C-Sec blues and began patrolling the Presidium.

Udina and Jensen had silently agreed to stay out of each other's way, and both were glad when Adam's trial period on the Presidium had come to an end. Sadly for Udina, Adam had been partnered with Officer Harkin.

Harkin was, in the most polite terms, a disgrace of a human being. Adam wondered how the twenty year veteran had ever managed to get in the force: maybe he had been a decent person once upon a time.

Maybe.

And then Adam found out about the politics behind Harkin's long career, he had tried to stay out of it. Nothing good ever came out of meddling with politics. Besides, Adam was hardly a saint.

And then Harkin stole some Red Sand from the evidence room, destroying a case against a pimp.

And then Adam got mad.

Four days later, Harkin was out of the force. There had been enough evidence of corruption against him to put him away for a long time, and Udina, ever obsessed with keeping humanity's reputation clean, called in every favor he could and every pulled every string he had to control the damage. When it was over, Harkin was out on the streets and on probation. He vanished in the wards soon after, never to be seen again.

That had been six years ago. Udina never forgave Adam for the political embarrassment, and Adam never forgave Udina for letting Harkin just fade away.

And now, here there were, face to face.

"Jensen. Pallin told me he was putting his best man on the job. I suppose you're covering for him?"

"Come on, Udina, you can do better than that."

"I think Pallin can do much better than you." Udina shot back, smugly. "Do you understand exactly what has just happened?"

"A woman was just murdered, and I intend to-"

"-As I thought, you do not understand. Shepard was more than just a woman. Including Torfan, she had overcome three of the greatest military operations in Alliance history! She was a legend in the making: humanity's champion. And if you and Vakarian had done your jobs she'd be alive to make galactic history."

"Our jobs? You mean Saren? We don't know that Saren did this."

"This is the kind of short-sightedness that let him get away with mass murder!"

"It wasn't short-sightedness, it was Council hamstringing. You may not have heard, but the Powers that Be? They don't like it when people sniff around their golden boys' dirty laundry. And the Spectres? Once they knew I was on the case, they started sabotaging the investigation every step of the way."

"That wouldn't have happened if you had been more discreet!"

"Discreet? I was plenty discreet. You want to talk about discretion? Let's talk about you: that public accusation pretty much alerted Saren and his friends to start covering tracks. Oh, and on subject of short-sightedness, who agreed with the Council that two days was a reasonable amount of time for C-Sec to investigate a massacre on a planet exactly two days' travel from here? Gee, I wonder."

Udina cursed himself: he had been less than discreet, but it's not like he had much of a choice. With the exception of the most severe of crisis, the Council insisted on conducting nearly all of their business at the top of the Presidium Tower, an arena far too public for Udina's tastes when one accused a Spectre of the murder of thousands of innocent people. Udina had tried more private channels to make his accusation, but the Council was adamant about protocol: whatever you have to say to us, you'll say it in front of everyone else.

And two days had seemed like a reasonable deadline at the time. Of course, Udina hadn't quite traveled the galaxy long enough to be familiar with travel times. Trips in Alliance space took hours, not days, and he figured a trip to Eden Prime would take no more than a half a Galactic Standard day. He had been wrong.

Of course, Udina being a politician, he couldn't admit it. "I think we've gone off track, here," he said. "I wanted to talk to you about this case."

"Right. I'll say it plainly: I haven't found anything that implicates Saren with the murder in any way whatsoever."

"Oh please, who else could be behind it?"

"I don't know. Although I do hear Shepard was pretty popular with the pirates and slavers of the Terminus systems. And the Batarian Hegemony, by extension."

"Then may I ask what evidence you have found so far?"

"None that I'd care to share with you right now…or ever, for that matter."

"You soon won't have a choice. I've already begun the legal process for Alliance Intel to take over this investigation."

Adam processed what Udina had just dropped on him, and then spoke. "Did I not just warn the corporal earlier about interfering with C-Sec investigations? You realize the sentencing for that scales up with severity, right?"

"You did and I do. The young marine might have been…premature, but the fact is once the AI Operative gets here, warrant in hand, you'll have little choice but to follow his every command."

"…You're bluffing. The Council wouldn't let Alliance spooks in the Citadel, not with that kind of authority."

Udina was starting to get smug. "Usually no, but they are allowed to take over C-Sec investigations when an Alliance VIP has come to harm. An Alliance soldier murdered on the Citadel fulfills that criterion. Just thought I would give you fair warning."

Adam was smoldering on the inside: having dealt with Spectres before, he had little tolerance for smug hotshots that swooped in and took over a case with little justification beyond "because we can".

Udina started towards the elevator, but stopped. "One more thing, Jensen. Allow me to give you some proper motivation: Humanity is watching. If you turn out to be a benefit to this case, I just might be able to convince the right people to let you come back on Earth."

"I left Earth. Not looking to come back."

Udina ignored him. "But if you turn out to be a hindrance, if Shepard's killer gets away because of you, I will make sure everyone knows it."

Udina leaned in close. With a lower, more menacing edge to his voice, he added:

"Do NOT fuck this up."

And with that, Udina left for the elevator.

"Damn," said the receptionist. "And I thought my day sucked."

Adam turned to the Asari: she had apparently finished her call and something on her laptop required her to wait for a progress bar to finish. "Heard all that?" Adam asked.

"Pretty much."

Ah, Udina. Master of discretion. Adam tried to steer the conversation away from his earlier chat with the ambassador. "Well, my day is just getting started. There's hope for me yet," he said with a slight smile.

"Not likely," the receptionist started rubbing her eyes. "Everyone's day is pretty much ruined. I swear, one dead human and everyone acts like the whole galaxy is going to- hold on." She stretched her arms and yawned. "Sorry. Been here a while."

"Working overtime?"

"Like I have a choice. I started my shift 13 hours ago. I was supposed to get relieved 4 hours ago, but then my backup calls in sick. Then her backup calls in sick. And then half the human staff does, too." She laughed bitterly. "Aw, I can't exactly blame them. After Matriarch Eneles and…what was that hanar psycho's name?"

"Cylenander," Adam supplied. He winced: the name brought back unpleasant memories.

"Yeah, him. Well, after two sprees of racially motivated murders, it looks like we're up for a third. Makes every human on the Citadel a little nervous. I should know: I've had to reschedule a lot of appointments today, all human."

"So you were here when Shepard was killed?"

"Well…yes?"

"I hate to add to your troubles, but…"

"Aw, damnit. You want to ask me questions."

"Just a few, yes."

"All I can tell you is what I told the 'lieutenant' – thanks for getting rid of her, by the by."

"You're welcome."

_Wait, did she just call him a girl?_

"Right, well, as I just told her: No I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Too many people come through here at once, and no shortage of weird, either."

And, Adam realized, there was no real guarantee the killer came through the front door. Still, he would have had to go through that elevator to get to the bridge section of the hospital…

"Did you see anyone carrying a bouquet of flowers?"

The receptionist snorted. "Yeah, that doesn't narrow it down all that much."

Adam activated his Omni-tool, conjuring up a hologram of the bouquet found in Shepard's room. "How about these?"

The receptionist took a glance at the holographic flowers, and then did a double take. "Huh. Now that you mention it…yeah, I saw a human carrying a bouquet of those. I definitely remember it…mostly because I had never seen them before.

"Did you have a good look at the person carrying it?"

"Definitely. She even asked me for directions, asked for the bridge sect-" her eyes widened, as she realized exactly who she spoke to. "-oh, Goddess! You don't think-"

"-She? It was a woman?"

"A wo- oh, you mean a human female? I think so. Males are the ones with the fur on the face, right? She didn't have any."

"Well, there are plenty of human males who shave their facial hair off."

"Oh. Oh. Well, it might have been a male…I'm sorry, I've only lived on the Citadel for two years, and for us Asari that's not long enough to acclimate to the subtleties between human genders."

"If you're not sure, why did you call her a she?"

The receptionist looked puzzled. Adam realized that she must have been using a gender neutral Asari dialect. 'He' and 'She' probably translated to the same thing for her, and whatever pronoun she used came out 'she' by default on his translator.

"Never mind," Adam said. "Translator error. Besides the lack of facial hair, did she look like me? Bigger than your average Asari? Broader shoulders? Straight waist?" Adam paused, thinking. Then he added: "Flat chest?"

"…Yes, on all counts. Except she was a bit shorter than you. Yes, definitely shorter. Huh, so that's what makes a human male? I think I owe Robert an apology…"

So, human male. That had taken a bit too long to establish, in Adam's opinion. He mentally cursed his translator.

"Focus, please. Can you describe the man you saw?"

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, as if trying to concentrate. "She was wearing…beige pants, loose ones, with lots of large pockets on it…and a dark brown leather jacket with a hood."

"Can you describe his face?"

"Had your skin tone, maybe a bit paler? She was wearing black shades, so I can't tell you what her eyes looked like..."

"Do you remember when you saw him?"

"It was… I'm sorry, I can't give you a proper estimate, and I wasn't looking at my watch. I think I was halfway through my shift?"

"Is that all you can tell me?"

"I'm afraid so…will that be enough?"

"It'll have to be." Adam asked the receptionist her contact info as per protocol, and left the hospital. He had a few leads to pursue.

**~[h+]~**

Adam sat down in the driver's seat of his Spinner hovercar and closed the canopy, shutting out the noise from the outside. He welcomed the calm and quiet, and savored the smell of artificial leather, cleansing the persistent reek of antibacterial foam (with a slight hint of piss) from his nostrils. He pressed a button on his dashboard, summoning a map of the citadel, and set his destination for Upper Zakera. Traffic was light at the moment, so he decided to let the auto-pilot do the flying.

Of course, Adam couldn't very well do nothing while he waited, so he vid-called Euridycia on his Omni-tool. After a few ringtones, she answered.

"Adam? Something you need?"

"Yeah, I just spoke with the receptionist. We might have a suspect: walked through the front door with a bouquet of blossoms and asked her for directions."

"Right through the front door? I would've thought the killer would've sneaked from a backdoor or something."

"Didn't need to, it's not like going into a hospital is suspicious in and out of itself."

"Good point."

"In any case, can you put me in contact with the tech looking over the hospital's security?"

"Sure, let me set up a secure conference."

As Adam waited for the encryption and various other C-sec security measures to load, he overheard some background noise on Euridycia's channel. Two voices were apparently arguing nearby.

"Euridycia? What's going on?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm in the hospital's morgue right now, setting up the victim's body for the freezer. Apparently her commander and Udina are arguing over how to handle her remains. Udina wants her preserved for Alliance Intelligence, and the Alliance marines don't seem too happy about it."

"Is this about Shepard's graybox?"

"Probably. Looks like we won't be able to touch it once those Alliance spooks get here."

Adam was about to curse under his breath when his Omni-tool beeped and a second vid window appeared over his wrist. It was the face of a Salarian in his mid-twenties.

"Nox here."

Euridycia spoke up: "Nox, this is Detective Jensen, he's in charge of this investigation."

Nox nodded. Euridycia continued: "Got anything for him?"

"Nothing right now," answered Nox. "Still looking over the logs, haven't found anything."

"That's okay," said Adam. "I just need you to stream the security footage for the hospital's reception desk on the first floor, around two hours before Shepard's estimated time of death."

The salarian tech complied, and a third window appeared. It was the frozen image taken by a camera with a wide angle lens, apparently placed above and on the left of the reception desk.

"Fast forward," said Adam, "at 12x speed, no frame skipping."

"What are we looking for?" asked Euridycia.

"Human, 'possibly' male, wearing a brown leather jacket with beige cargo pants and military boots."

The image came to life, and six minutes later the three C-sec investigators had seen the two hours of security footage. None of them saw anyone matching the receptionist's desciption. Eurridycia hadn't noticed anything else out of the ordinary, but there was, indeed, something to notice. Between a human with augmented vision and a quick-witted salarian, 12x speed wouldn't hide it.

Adam spoke first, "I saw something at-"

"-time index seventy-two point thirty-eight." Nox interrupted. "Rewinding."

"Right, now play it at normal speed."

"Ah, now i see it," said Euridycia. "The receptionist is talking to herself, there."

Nox zoomed in on the particular clip and set it to repeat. "Slight distortions in front of the desk. Video tampered with." Adam could hear the rapid beeps from Nox's typing. Three other videos came up on Adam's Omni-tool: a shot of the inside of the elevator, a shot the receptions desk on the bridge hospital's bridge section and a shot of a locked door. Nox played each video, highlighting the areas with slight visual distortions. The locked door video didn't have a whole lot, right up until the door opened, and for a split second Adam could see the distorted, pixelated figure of a man entering the room. Shepard's room.

"I think we've got an exact ToD," said Adam.

The video kept playing and the holo lock on the door became red. Adam fast forwarded the video until the door inevitably opened again to let the killer out. The distorted figure appeared again for only a few frames, but Adam could make out his face: He was as the receptionist described, hooded and bespectacled with dark shades. Despite the visual artifacts, Adam could also make out a slightly small mouth and a chiselled jaw.

"And we've got a face." Euridycia smiled. "Good eyes, Jensen."

Before anyone asked, Nox commented: "Distortions due to a Virus with image recognition subroutines designed to edit out a specific person or object from a video file. Not a perfect program: mistakes happen, sudden light from opening doors threw off the subroutines enough for suspect to appear."

"Anything else you can glean from this?" asked Jensen.

"At the moment, no. But now armed with better understanding of hacker's objectives and methods. Should be able to find out more. Thank you, mister Jensen: would have wasted far too much time on my own."

"You're welcome." Adam began backing up the new information. "Let me know if you find anything else."

"Will do. Nox out." and Nox's picture winked out from the comm session.

"Well Jensen," asked Euridycia, "is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Actually, yeah: what are you doing in the hospital's morgue? Forensics didn't send a truck?"

"The main precinct had to send the trucks somewhere else: a duct rat found 23 bodies in one of the underground protein vats in Upper Zakera. From what I've been told, they all had gunshot wounds to their heads."

That was odd and fairly coincidental considering Jensen was headed there. "Was there a shoot out?"

"I haven't heard anything about that. In any case, I'm keeping the victim's body here until they send someone to pick it up."

Adam didn't pursue the matter any further. It wasn't his case. "That's all, Euridycia. Jensen out."

Twelve minutes later, Adam landed his Spinner near Amnon's.

**~[h+]~**

_Amnon's_ was a pawn shop on Upper Zakera's ground level near the tip of the ward. The shop had just about everything you wanted, if you wanted something old and slightly used. Old guns, old clocks, old toys, old cassette players...If it was made in the twentieth or twenty-first century, odds were Amnon had it for sale. That didn't mean Amnon didn't have anything more recent, of course: you can't run a pawn shop in the Citadel without getting your hands on more up-to-date pieces of technology, e-books and vids.

Or, for that matter, some recently stolen jewelery.

Adam opened the door, triggering the door-chime, and walked inside. He was immediately greeted by familiar smell of dust, rust and old oil, as well of the sight of antique clocks, fine pens and fancy mechanical toys all neatly organized and arrayed. Adam smiled: he had a love for old pieces of clockwork ever since he was a kid, and finding this place on the Citadel had been one of the reasons he had accepted Pallin's offer to work for C-Sec instead of having another go at being a farmer.

Amnon Kerensky looked up from his counter at the sound of the bells and, upon seeing Adam with red optics in the shape of crescent moons, opened up his mechanical arms to greet his favourite customer. "Adam!" he exclaimed, his slightly russian-accented voice flanging from a speaker on his dark mask. "Dearest of all my friends! What brings you to my humble shop?"

Adam was about to speak, but Amnon was just getting started: "That clock you fixed for me sold for a very, very pretty penny! Let me give you something to show my appreciation!" He reached under his counter and pulled out an unmarked box of ammo. "Point Three Five Seven Magnums. A box of twenty-four rounds! Tungsten Cores in a steel shell, made just for you!"

"Uh-huh, and how much are these gonna cost me?"

"For you? a mere 1 credit."

Adam whistled. "That's...quite a deal."

"You give me good work, I give you excellent work back...at an unbeatable price. Besides, I also have to show Sasha my love, no? You take good care of Sasha?"

"Yeah," Adam answered with a slight smile as he gave Amnon his credit chit, "I've been taking good care of Sasha." He pocketed the rounds.

"Good! Good! Now, what else can your friend Amnon do for you?"

"I'm looking for an engagement ring..."

"Oh! Have you fallen from our bachelor ranks? You simply must tell me the name of the Lady that has-"

"A _stolen_ ring, Amnon."

"Ah...I see..." Amnon's usual cheery mood deflated quickly. "Adam, my friend, you know I don't fence stolen goods. I own legitimate business!"

"I know you do, Amnon, but we both know your...friends are into things slightly less legit."

Adam activated his Omni-Tool and brought up a hologram of Alenko's ring, along with readouts of the scan.

"This is a scan of the stolen ring's twin."

Amnon tapped the chin of his mask pensively. "Hm, fine craftsmanship there. Finely patterned blend of programmable silver and plati-" And then Amnon went quiet.

"Amnon, are you alri- aw, crap, it's happening again, isn't it?"

A few seconds later, Amnon was a prisoner in his own body, his consciousness having made way for the Citadel Collective of the Omar. Adam loved talking to Amnon, as he always had a good deal or even a piece of junk for him to fiddle with, but talking to the collective consciousness of some three hundred cyborgs was just unsetlling. They always spoke in that high pitched, scratchy, throaty digital voice that grated on the nerves. The first Adam had met an Omar, he had thought he was dealing with an alien. He had been very surprised when he had been told that the cyborgs had in fact originated from Earth.

"This is the work of Argyros," said the Omar.

"Argyros?"

"Asari jewelery consortium. They specialize in the shaping of rare metals for the purposes of self-beautification and mating rituals/contracts. Superior craftmanship standards allow Argyros to sell their wares at ten times the value of the materials used to construct them."

"Well thanks for that, but I'm wondering how that's relevant, here."

"Argyros also drives up its prices by making each set of jewelery they produce unique."

"It's a plain ring. It's as nondescript as you can get."

"You are wrong."

The Omar grabbed at Jensen's hologram and manipulated the image. It enlarged the holographic ring and highlighted an incredibly complex and intricate pattern on the ring's outer surface. The Omar continued: "We are familiar with this item: one of our units works for the Argyros' Citadel branch as a craftsman. Each Argyros jewelery set is the equivalent of a work of art, and difficult to re-sell illegally in Citadel space for this very reason. Even the silver/platinum blending pattern is recognizable and a scan of it is filed in the consortium's archives. Removing the micro-scale serial number engraving would do little to hide its origins...or, with enough research, its rightful owner."

"So in short, it's too hot to sell, few fences would touch it...least of all a pawn shop owner. If they did, they'd be real discreet about it." Adam couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. He could hope that the killer would slip up and be desperate enough for cash to try and sell it to an Omar, but it wasn't likely. "I'm curious though, how much did that set of rings cost?"

"Two million and five hundred thousand credits."

Adam whistled: Shepard didn't skimp on the fine things in life. The price also made him wonder where she got that kind of money. Rich uncle, maybe? Well, it hardly mattered now. This lead was drying up fast.

The Omar stood there, silently expecting another question. Adam obliged it: "Has the Collective sold any Alliance military surplus to anyone recently? Boots, Knives, that sort of thing?"

"The Alliance Navy does not allow Omar Traders license to sell any of their equipment, high tech or low tech."

"What about the 'unlicensed' stuff?"

"...We do not wish to antagonize the Alliance Navy."

"...Right. Know anyone on the Citadel that has license to deal with old Alliance hardware?"

"Please wait...Unit Kerensky knows of a Turian weapons and armor trader with a fascination for human military hardware, old and new. Decanus Ordo is the only known Alliance Surplus licensee on the Citadel."

"The Alliance won't let you sell their junk but they'll let a _Turian_ do it?"

The Omar said nothing.

"One last thing: Does the collective have any florists that deal in rare Earth flowers?"

The Omar said nothing.

"Hmph. Worth a shot. I think I'd like to talk to Amnon, now."

The Omar said nothing.

"...Hello?" Adam waved his hand in front of Amnon's mask.

"Detective Jensen. We are aware of the murder case you are investigating. The Collective has agreed to assist you in any way it can in apprehending the killer. We do not have any other information that might be relevant for you at this time, but we shall contact you when we do. That is all. Logging you out."

"Hey, wait a min-"

Adam didn't finish his sentence before Amnon shuddered back into his body. "I hate it when they do that," he said. "No courtesy at all! Not even a proper hello and goodbye!"

"Are you okay, Amnon?"

"Oh, do not fret, Adam! I've been dealing with strangers inside my head for a century, now! Ah! but I forget, I forget! You need contact Ordo, yes?"

Amnon activated his Omni tool and promptly uploaded the address and phone number of Ordo's Arms Armour and Sundries to Adam's own Tool.

"Good man, this Turian, seems to admire humans a great deal!" Amnon leaned in close, his voice quieter: "A little too much, maybe, if you catch Amnon's drift, yes?" he chuckled. "I joke, I joke! The man is happily married to an Asari. Lovely woman!"

"Amnon, what was that earlier? No offense but in the time I've known it the Omar collective hasn't been known to stick out its neck for anyone. And how did it know about Shepard's death? Why does it even care?"

"Adam, I am but a small part of a greater whole. A branch connected to a great tree. I do not presume to know everything there is about my Collective...But I agree, that declaration of help came...unexpectedly. And quite earnestly, too. I could feel that. Something big is coming, Adam, and I fear you'll be standing in its path before long."

**~[h+]~**

Adam got back in his Spinner, closed the canopy and sank into his leather seat and took a deep breath. Talking to Amnon had been a balm, but talking to the collective had been a bit frustrating, mostly because Adam felt he had wasted his time. But it couldn't be helped: there was no way to be sure that a lead would get you to a dead end until your pursued it. Still, he had gotten an address out of it. And twenty-four tungsten core revolver rounds.

Well, maybe it hadn't been such a waste after all.

He typed up Ordo's address on his Nav computer and started up the Spinner's drives. Before he could take off, his Omni-Tool rang: it was a call from his doctor.

"Monsieur Jensen," greeted the french redhead. She seemed a bit nervous.

"Dr Michel," Adam greeted back. "Something wrong? You look a little pale."

Her eyes darted left and right. "I'm afraid i have some bad news, Monsieur Jensen...I've rechecked the scans from your last medical exam and I've found that your implants are causing some severe decay in your ulna. I need you to come in right away."

"...Okay, how bad is this? I'm kind in the middle of an investigation, here."

"You could _die_, Monsieur Jensen. Please, the sooner we fix this problem, the better."

"...Alright, your clinic isn't too out of the way of where I was going anyways. Is the treatment going to take long?"

"Non, non. Not long at all. An hour at most, and then a prescription."

Adam typed up Dr Michel's clinic's address on his Nav computer and took hold of the steering wheel. The Spinner soared above the street, taking its place amongst thousands of other cars within the void encircled by the arms of the Citadel. Adam checked the Traffic: the augmented reality streets in the sky were getting very crowded.

"I'll be there in about twenty minutes."

"Thank you," said the doctor, and she hurriedly closed the connection.

Adam took another deep breath. So, it was finally starting. Adam wasn't all that surprised: between the hundreds of years of deep freeze and the wear and tear he endured on Elysium and his seven-year career at C-Sec, something was bound to start breaking. While Adam could maintain his prosthetics easily enough by duplicating replacement parts with the mini Fabricator C-Sec had provided him to maintain his weapons, the Wetware, the electronic components that were stuck throughout his central nervous system, were well out his reach. While Chloe Michel was a competent physician and learning something new about 2020's cybernetics every day, she was still far, far out of her depth when it came to Sarif Industries Wetware. In fact, the only experts left were stuck in a freezer somewhere below Detroit, and they weren't coming out any time soon.

Adam, in other words, was doomed to die from lack of maintenance. It was a wonder he lasted this long.

He took another deep breath. _You were prepared for this. You were prepared for this. _He mentally repeated the mantra in his head to prepare for the inevitable, and tried to remind himself that the inevitable would be a long ways off as long as he kept seeing his doctor and stopped the cowboy ninja cop antics.

He also tried to remember which part of his brain the Ulna was supposed to be. You know, just to know what the fuss was about.

**~[h+]~**

Dr Michel quietly, desperately hoped Jensen remembered enough human biology to remember the ulna was located in the forearm and, since his original arms were gone, he technically didn't have ulnas any more. She had hoped he would catch on with her lie, that he was being led to a trap. She hoped...but Jensen didn't seem to have caught on at all.

The green-crested Krogan aiming a shotgun to her head grinned. "Thank you, darling." He motioned to one of his thugs, a human. "Take her in the back with the beds and keep an eye on her. Nothing freezes up a cop like a hostage." He then turned to his two salarian goons planting something on each side of the clinic's main entrance. " Are the EMP mines set up?" he asked them.

One of the goons got up and rubbed his hands. "Yep. As soon as Jensen crosses that door, the mines should render him mostly harmless and defenseless."

"Good. Only _mostly._" The Krogan smiled. He may have been a hitman, but he did like a little sport.

"Hey, Thog?" asked the Salarian.

"What?"

"Why is Fist sending us to kill a C-Sec agent? This is trouble we don't want."

Thog was annoyed, he didn't like answering stupid questions: "Jensen and Vakarian are _krant_. We were lucky the turian came at us alone, but once Vakarian is reported missing, Jensen will be alerted and he _will_ find his partner. Trouble will be coming at us, it's only be a matter of time. Might as well fight on a ground of our choosing."

"Right, well, two things? One: I'm scratching my head as to why we haven't killed the chicken and dumped his corpse into a vat."

Thog groaned and rolled his eyes. Were Salarians always so insubordinate? "Ask Fist."

"Two: this setup? A one-room clinic the size of a flat with only a chest high wall by the beds for cover? Close quarters is your thing, not mine. We could just-"

"It's a good enough setup. You take your friend there and take that cover, get yourselves ready to fill Jensen with holes when the mines take him down."

"We could just kill him in his sleep!"

No. That wasn't good way to kill a man. Not ever. Thog started seeing red. "Look, You want to run this job?"

"Actually, yes, I do want to run this job!"

"Well guess what?" He cocked his heavy shotgun for emphasis. "You CAN'T. Now get behind cover and keep your mouth SHUT. Your constant yapping is harming my calm."

The Salarian goon knew better than piss off a krogan, so he obeyed. That didn't stop him from muttering a few curses under his breath while he configured his sub-machine gun to fire Disruptor rounds. Thog watched him disappear behind the chest high wall and, satisfied that the salarian wasn't giving any more crap, loaded a Hammerhead polonium ammo block into his shotgun and a noise canceller on its muzzle. If by some unlikely chance the EMP mines and the disruptor rounds didn't faze Jensen at all, Thog would be able to pound him into submission and watch as the poison robbed the light from his eyes.

Sixteen minutes of waiting. Sixteen minutes of telling that whimpering little human to stop her crying. Sixteen minutes of looking forward to savor the kill, and finally, the door chime rang. It was time for Jensen to die. _Good. _Thog quietly ordered the human holding the woman hostage as he took up a position just out of sight: "Get her to ring him in from her laptop. No talking: she might try something stupid."

The humans complied, and the red holographic ring on the main door turned into a green lozenge. Thog licked his lips. The door opened. It was almost time...

Nobody came through.

Thog squinted, his eyes straining to make out the tell-tale distortions of a cloaking field, but he saw nothing. He listened intently for the sound of footsteps, but he heard nothing. There was no one there. Something was wrong.

"_Lizard_, turn off those mines."

"Hey, that's offen-"

"Shut up and do it."

The salarian tech typed something on his omni tool and the two mines on each side of the door switched off. Thog approached the open door quietly. He holstered his shotgun: he didn't want to alert any passerbys on the street. Thog stuck his head out, hoping to catch sight of his quarry. Nothing. So far his eyes had not served him well, so he decided his sense of smell would do a better job. A deep breath, and the scent of a dead animal's skin, tanned and dyed, tickled the room of his mouth. It was a fresh scent, and Thog smiled. Adam was close: Thog had heard the human had a fondness for fine, real leather. But then, Thog's eyes had decided to make themselves useful, and he caught sight of a bundle of blue leather just below an open air vent just three meters above the ground. The Krogan thug was puzzled and decided to poke at the leather bundle (which, as it turned out, was a human-sized coat), realized that Jensen had sensed the trap, and he rushed back inside back to his three henchmen.

Thog really, really shouldn't have checked out that coat. If he hadn't, if he had turned around soon after sticking his head outside, then he might have been seen Jensen tap the human hostage taker on the shoulder and then punch his lights out as the poor sap turned around. He might have been able to do something as Jensen cloaked, rushed the two salarians, grabbed them by their collars and bashed their skulls together. Since he had wasted his time, Thog came in just time to see a decloaking Jensen dropping one unconscious salarian down on the floor. Thog's second mistake was holstering that shotgun. Drawing a weapon was quick enough, but letting it deploy from its collapsed storage state took exactly one point two seconds. He also loaded a Carnage Round, which added another second of charging time on top of that. Two point two second. Enough for Jensen to crack a smile and exploit Thog's last mistake. The salarian Jensen was still holding by the neck had his omni tool on, and it was still connected to the two EMP mines. The cop pressed the big red holographic button on it and the mines woke up to the presence of a large, fully armored Krogan drawing out a shotgun. Naturally, they exploded, causing every shield capacitor in Thog's armor to discharge and the mass effect field holding up the glob of compressed molten metal inside Thog's weapon to collapse. The hot metal oozed into the shotgun's innards and turned them into slag, rendering the large weapon useless.

Now, the Krogan was getting mad: he really loved that gun. He dropped the ruined weapon, bellowed out a challenge to the cyborg cop and began to charge. Jensen's response was to vault the chest high wall and charge right back at the Krogan. Thog was surprised: he had expected the cop to come at him sideways, use some trickery or even his weapons to try and kill him. But that was fine: Thog didn't care how augmented the puny human was: No one could beat him at a charge, he was seven hundred pounds of muscle running at twenty-five kilometers per hour. Nothing could stop him.

But Thog didn't factor several things. One: Adam could run at one hundred kilometers per hour. Two: Adam was about to punch Thog in the face, not counter-tackle him. Three: Adam's fist was made out of carbon nanotube reinforced polymer with a reinforced titanium endo-structure, making it quite capable of punching through walls. Four: Thog's unarmored face was not a concrete wall, despite boasts of the contrary to impressionable females.

Thog's face broke under the combined force of his own charge, Adam's running speed and the extra power from the myomer bundles in his cybernetic arm. The Krogan was knocked back six meters and his back slammed into the wall, robbing him of his consciousness. His healing factor kicked in, trying to repair the damage to his face, but there was simply no regenerating the trauma to his brain. Thog drifted in and out of consciousness for a few seconds, haunted by one last thought before the darkness took him.

Yes, he should definitely have killed Jensen in his sleep.

**~[h+]~**

Officer Lang came in the clinic, investigating a code 415 that dispatch called in just as he was walking by. He was about to open the door when he heard a loud banging noise emanating from the wall, and he decided to draw his sidearm before entering the small clinic.

The young, blonde, and somewhat babyfaced human C-Sec officer hadn't expected to find an unconscious, fully armored Krogan, and much less a _cyborg_ binding said Krogan with high strength restraints flash forged from an omni-tool. Was he a mercenary? A bounty hunter? Same difference, and probably illegal on the Citadel.

"Freeze!" commanded Lang, pointing his gun at the cyborg. The cyborg simply got up with his hands raised and pointed at the badge attached to his belt. Lang deployed his augmented reality visor and scanned the badge. It was authentic, and relayed info about the man carrying it.

"Oh. Detective Jensen?" Lang lowered his gun. He had heard about C-Sec's very own cyber-cop, but he had never met the...man personally. Introductions were in order. "Officer Eddie Lang. I'm answering the 415? Someone saw a flash of lightning then heard a Krogan roar in this clinic earlier."

Jensen receded his shades and spoke: "Hostage situation in progress, but I defused it. By the way, I've got three more perps unconscious back there -one human, two salarians- I'll bind them up, you secure their weapons and omni tools."

Lang secured the crime scene as directed, occasionally taking a glance at Jensen's hands. The man worked fast, with practiced efficiency. They were both done in less than a minute. While they worked, Jensen had asked the french woman is she was alright, then asked her to explain what these four men wanted with her.

"These are Fist's men! They said they have Garrus! You have to rescue him!" The woman was tired and very distraught. Lang had just finished removing the ammo block from the last weapon, and decided to try to calm the woman down.

"Ma'am, take a deep breath, try to relax, and start from the beginning. Who is Garrus?"

She pointed at Jensen. "He's his partner." Then she turn to him. "Your partner. You have to go rescue him now!"

"_Michel,_" said Jensen, sternly. "I am NOT going anywhere, not after you practically baited me into walking into a trap-"

"I tried warning you!"

"And you're lucky I remembered my high school biology, otherwise I would be cuffing you with the rest of these scum! Now do as the man says: take a deep breath, calm the HELL down, and start from the beginning or we WILL continue this at the station!"

The doctor was taken aback. She was evidently not used to men being this harsh with her, but it worked. She collected herself and started her story.

"Yesterday, a Quarian girl came to me in need of medical help. She had been grazed by a several polonium rounds, but she wouldn't tell me who shot her. She was scared and on the run, asked me about the Shadow Broker. She wanted to trade information - something to do with the geth - in exchange for her safety, so I put her in contact with Fist, one of the shadow broker's agents." She rubbed her hands anxiously. "I though nothing of it until four of fist's men came knocking on my door..."

"Don't worry, ma'am." Lang reassured her. "They won't be waking up any time soon."

"Non, non! Not these men! It was still yesterday, I was getting ready to close the clinic when these four men - humans - barged in and made threats. Garrus was coming, and they didn't want me to tell him about the Quarian...but the truth was he was already stalking these men. One of them started getting...ideas about me, and Garrus intervened. Shot all of them in the head!"

Lang couldn't believe his ears. This Garrus fella just shot four men in the head in cold blood? Without so much as a warning? That was against regulations!

"Lang, this is your beat. Did Vakarian call that one in?"

"No," answered Lang, shaking his head. "If there were four dead perps I'd have heard about it!"

The doctor spoke up. "That's because Garrus told me to not call C-Sec and hide the bodies in the freezer where i keep my samples."

"He did what?" the two policemen said in unison. Adam continued: "Michel, do you realize how much trouble you're in? Hiding bodies is a goddamned felony!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Garrus said that he needed to keep the Spectres off the scent, that they wanted to destroy his case against Saren, and that if C-Sec knew he was on to Fist, the Spectres would move in on Chora's Den and destroy any evidence, maybe even kill the Quarian!" She started crying. "Please, he said he'd take care of me, that I wouldn't lost my license over this! I-I just wanted to help! Please don't arrest me!" And then she wept openly.

Lang was wide-eyed. He just didn't know how to deal crying women: no matter how much he tried to calm them down they seemed to cry all the harder. Jensen didn't seem to care, though, and he seemed keen on crushing her some more: "So you led a Quarian girl and a lone C-Sec officer into gangster's lair? You're just on a roll today, aren't you, Doctor Michel?" He walked away from her in disgust.

"Sir," said Lang meekly as he followed Jensen. "She's trying to cooperate."

"Don't care." Adam didn't break stride. "I'm headed for Chora's Den. Call for backup, but don't surround the Den just yet: I'm going to infiltrate the place to confirm Vakarian's presence, secure him and, if possible, exfiltrate him. If I don't call in within an hour, you move in."

"Sir, you're going at it alone?"

"I sneak in better on my own. Besides, a whole group of C-Sec patrollers at Fist's door and he might try and hold Vakarian hostage, or just kill him."

"But I've been to Chora's Den, sir! The place is surrounded by armed thugs! Even the dancers are packing! You need to wait for reinforcements!"

Adam looked over his shoulder, fixing his metallic yellow-green stare on Lang.

"_I am the reinforcements," _he said, as his shades deployed.

**~[h+]~**

CODEX ENTRY: CITADEL RACES: HUMAN: OMAR

_The Omar Techno sects (or Collectives) are societies of radically cyberneticaly modified humans that emerged during the Collapse. They originated from the city of Yekaterinburg, when a group of scientists submitted themselves to radical biomodification in an attempt to survive the famines and diseases brought on by the global disaster. The Omar, cut off from the rest of the world, predicted an age when nations didn't exist and humanity was divided by ideology, and prepared themselves to be the living embodiment of the black market. When global communications were re-established a decade later, their predictions were proven wrong, as the nations of earth merged and consolidated into larger superpowers._

_The Omar found themselves unwelcome in a global society that shunned all forms of human augmentation. In a bid to 'fit in', the second generation of Omar bodies were designed to respect the difference between 'prosthesis' and 'augmentation', and Omar recruitment targeted the disabled and terminally ill with offers of an immortal mechanical body. This did little good for their reputation as they appeared extremely opportunistic, a problem made worse as the Omar's business acumen (which has allowed Yekaterinburg's economy to flourish) became the envy of every nation on earth. UN politics often vied to outlaw Omar cyber-modification to excuse going to war with the Yekaterinburg Omar city-state, and the UNAS would have nearly succeeded were it not for the outbreak of the First Contact War. In order to escape the political turmoil caused by their very existence, the Omar went on a mass exodus into space, leaving the gleaming spires of Yekaterinburg forever._

_The Omar individual is part of greater, merged collective consciousness, achieved through the implantation of a wireless cortical interface around the brain. While a single Omar has a semblance of a personal life, he or she is in fact always being watched by the gestalt entity composed of hundreds (sometimes thousands) of linked human brains. When the entire collective wishes to speak, they can do so through a single representative. Sociologists in Citadel space are fascinated by the Omar, as they are a prototype for a 'perfect democracy', but most people find the prospect of having next to no privacy frightening and unsettling._

_The galactic communities perceive the Omar as uncaring capitalist robots willing to do anything to anyone and sell anything to anyone if the price is good enough. In reality, each Omar collective has its own moral code. The Terminus Collective specializes in gun running, drug running and mercenary work, but despises slaving. The Noveria collective can be best described as a 'mad scientist', but draws the line at experimenting on live sentients. The Citadel Collective is mostly composed of law abiding merchants and craftsmen, but are also willing to trade in black market goods C-Sec has relatively no interest in policing, such as medicine. _


	5. Took your sweet time...

"Mr Vakariaaaaan..." the white haired middle aged human sang. Garrus gasped. He could feel his muscles relaxing, the tingle of electricity was leaving his body and was replaced by the soothing burn of medicine crawling in his veins: someone had used a resuscitation package on him. He opened his eyes and squinted as the harsh blue-white light emanating from the ceiling savaged his cornea, unimpeded by his pupils. When his eyes adjusted, he took stock of his situation.

Yep, he was still naked.

He was also hanging from a meat hook, his arms tightly bound to the metal curve by rope, his feet hovering half a foot above the tiled floor. Cracked, gleaming white tiles covered all four concrete walls. At his left was a table with a medkit and various tools. The room's temperature was a bit too low for Garrus' tastes but the Greasels, sitting in their cages with their maws muzzled, seemed to like it that way.

Garrus now decided that he hated Greasels. He had been briefed, but he hadn't quite been prepared for the nasty little critters: twenty-three thugs had died trying to bring him down, and he would have made it out if it weren't for one of the nasty little pet critters spitting that gunk onto his shirt. The resulting fumes were pretty noxious to humans to begin with, but being a dextro added the extra complication of an allergic reaction. Garrus fainted in seconds.

But that wasn't the worst of it, oh no. Fist wanted something called "a pound of flesh" for all the trouble Garrus had caused, and he had immediately injected the Turian C-Sec agent with a synringe of Panacea. The allergic reaction stopped and the toxins flushed out of his system, Garrus woke up in the part of the basement where Fist kept the Greasels, in the warm company of a Turian in a stripped down _Phantom_ Armor (painted orange with black tiger stripes) with a _Talon_ knife holstered on the breastplate, a middle aged human in a lab coat and long plastic gloves, and a salarian carrying Garrus' _Kassa Mongoose _on his belt and...wearing a wool hat on his head. A multicolored, thick wool hat with flaps. Garrus couldn't resist making a comment on that hat, which earned him a fractured rib. Then, the human brought out a cheap, thin cutting tool meant to cut packaging, dipped it in Greasel spit, and started with the _cutting._

Garrus screamed for hours. He had eventually lost consciousness when that injection of Panacea wore off and he went into shock again. Some part of him hoped he wouldn't wake up.

"You were _dead_, Mister Vakarian..." said the human as he unhooked the cardio-stimulators from Garrus' flesh. "Too soon, _too soon_! Fist wants you to suffer at least two days, minimum!"

"Yeah well, that's what you get when you mix-" Garrus coughed violently, silencing the witty comeback. He tasted the metal in his blood. He sucked in some air, and retched: it had the taste and smell of turian waste.

"And you made a mess... tsk tsk tsk. What would your mother say if she saw you like this, hm?"

"Fuck you."

Vakarian almost regretted saying that when the turian thug punched him in the liver. Of course, after what he had just gone through, it was kinda like getting gently tapped on the head. The human protested, surprisingly enough:

"No no no no no, blunt force trauma too easy, too simple...no art. No art at all! And besides, Medi Gel still working, sealing wounds, dulls pain. We wait before we begin again. For now...we talk."

"Oh, so now we're going for an interrogation?"

"No, not interrogation," said the torturer as he set the cardio stimulator back into the medkit. The human leaned in closer to Garrus. "I want to know you, that is all."

"Sorry..." Garrus gulped. "...You're not my type."

The torturer laughed. "Everybody lies. Everybody pretends. Pain..." the human twirled his toxin-covered knife for emphasis. "...Breaks down the lies you build around yourself. The lies you tell people so that they like you, the lies your project at people to keep them away from the truth of you..."

Garrus groaned...not so much because of the dull aches of slowly sealing cuts around his body, but because he was starting to get annoyed: what was it with psychotic torture fetishists and their pseudo-philosophical, armchair psychology bullshit? Why couldn't they just enjoy their sick sadistic impulses without attaching some great, deep purpose behind them?

"You believe you are a man of the law. You believe that you are a servant of Justice. That is the lie. The you, the real you? I caught a glimpse of him on our security vids. A glimpse of you, the real you...You're a killer, Mister Vakarian."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Unlike other Turians, of course. The years of mandatory training your people endure tends to strip away the...passion? Yes. Let's say passion, behind the killing, turns it into a chore. But not you, oh no."

The torturer got closer.

"You noticed from the video feeds that you take pride in your skill, and more than just joy in a successful kill."

The torturer got closer. Too close.

"Each death announced with the thunder of your gun, each death heralded by the croak of a death rattle..."

The torturer started fondling Garrus' genitals.

"Made. You. HARD."

Garrus immediately responded by headbutting the human in the face. He had hoped to break the bastard's nose, but had to settle for knocking him off his feet. The torturer fell on his back.

"I'm sorry, was that supposed to turn me to the dark side? I've heard better evil monologues in the vids."

The Salarian immediately grabbed Garrus by the mandible and pressed his handgun to the turian's face. The torturer got back up and collected himself, fixing his comb-over with his hand. He sniffed disdainfully.

"Look, are you done talking?" shouted the Salarian to the torturer as he pressed the gun harder against Garrus' head. "Can you get back to the cutting? I wanna hear him scream some more!"

"Oh? And why are you so eager for me to continue?"

"He killed my _wife! _She was just a dancer on her break and he put a bullet in her brain!"

Garrus remembered her. "The Asari dancer who was packing a shotgun with murder in her eyes? She didn't make her first shot count, and I wasn't keen on giving her a second. If you're trying to make me feel b-OOF!"

The Turian thug punched Garrus in the liver again. He really felt that one: the Medi-Gel must have been wearing off. The torturer noticed Garrus' wince of pain and, with a smile, put the cutting tool back onto the table with the rest of the tools. He then took from the table some kind of small black rod, the size of a cigar, with a small button on the middle.

"This item..." he said, caressing the rod like a pet. "Was designed to torture cyborgs." He pressed the button, and a needle sprang from the rod. The needle went slack and split into nine, smaller tendrils, and each tendril split into nine hairs. They wriggled, seeking something, and retracted immediately. "A lot of cyborgs before the Collapse had too little...meat on them for effective torture, and this tool was designed to bind itself to what was left of their nervous system and..._remind_ them of the meaning of pain. The pain? Unimaginable! And yet it doesn't cause enough physical trauma to kill. As for the psychological trauma, well..."

"Saving the best for last, eh?" Garrus asked sarcastically. He noticed the door on the other side of the room open and close, with no one coming in, and smiled inwardly. He eyed the Salarian carrying his gun: He had withdrawn behind the human with a smile, eager to watch the torturer continue his work.

"I was actually saving it for your friend. I made a request to Mr Thog to bring him to me alive, but...One cannot expect a Krogan to hold back, no? Such a shame, such a shame...Of course, at the time I did not expect you to be such a resilient subject, Mr Vakarian. Not even _death _has broken you. But I assure you: this..." he gestured at the rod for emphasis. "..._will_ reveal the truth of you."

The torturer raised his hand, ready to stab Garrus with the black rod, but then his hand twisted in a way that a human wrist was never meant to tolerate and he dropped the torture device, screaming. His cries were cut short when he felt a kick behind on the back of his knee and a hand pushing the back of his head as he fell. His face met the unclean floor beneath Garrus' feet. A man-shaped glow of light materialized into a tall human in a blue longcoat. It was Adam Jensen, and the two thugs reacted to the threat between them immediately.

The salarian barely had time to put his finger on his gun's trigger before he felt a pressure on the wrist of his gun hand and the _Mongoose_ was twisted sideways, its trigger guard breaking the finger inside it. The gun clattered on the floor, and the Salarian was lifted by both his wrist and his codpiece and thrown towards the _Phantom_-clad Turian, who had just withdrawn his knife.

To the Turian's credit, he was knocked two feet back, but not knocked down. His Phantom armor had been modified with a kinetic assist mod, and the artificial muscles coating arms swelled and bulged suddenly as he caught the incoming hundred-pound salarian with both arms and threw him back at Adam. The cyborg cop sidestepped, and the Salarian slammed into a nearby Greasel cage. The turian quickly followed up by charging Adam in an attempt to gut him with the _talon_.

Adam sidestepped and dodged the stabbing attack. The Turian reversed his grip and attempted to backhand Jensen, aiming for the neck. His attack wasn't so much blocked as exploited: Adam grabbed the turian's knife arm with both hands and pulled him into a spin, and when the Turian had lost all balance atttempting to resist being pulled, Adam reversed the spin and pushed, slamming the thug into the ground. Knowing that the armor would absorb enough of the impact to keep the turian conscious, Adam took out his Stunner, kneeled, pressed the taser-like device against the turian's temple and pulled the trigger. The small concussion pulse shook the criminal's brain, and he fell into unconsciousness. Adam turned to his partner, just hanging there from a meat hook, looking as unimpressed as possible.

"Well," said Garrus. "You certainly took your sweet time."

**~[h+]~**

_CODEX ENTRY: ANIMAL SPECIES: EARTH: REPTILIAN: GREASELS:_

_The Greasel is a carnivorous reptillian trangenic animal created before The Collapse by the VersaLife biotech corporation to serve as a guard animal. After the Collapse, hundreds of Greasel test subjects escaped from various VersaLife facilities across the world, and they quickly earned a reputation as extremely dangerous pests haunting sewers._

_Greasels are short bipeds with two feathered, clawed arms. Their heads are long and large, with a maw capable of spitting a potent venom. Their prey of choice are usually small live mammals, such as mice or cats. If desperate for a meal, however, they are quite capable of attempting to devour a live human by attacking in small groups, using cunning and patient ambush tactics_

_Despite all the dangers Greasels pose, they are sought after in the criminal underworld for various purposes besides serving as a guard animal. "Greasel fights" have been a popular attraction in bars in the poorer districts on Earth for a century, and are becoming more common in Citadel space and the Terminus Systems, where they have also become a popular staple food second only to Varren. Greasel venom, while not as potent as cheap, lab produced neurotoxins used by hitmen and assassins, is an effective pain inducer when injected just under the skin, making it a useful torture tool for gangsters. _

* * *

_Decided to keep this chapter short. I was going to have Garrus' shins broken for this chapter and make Adam apply some painful first aid with bone setting and his sonar vision, but decided it was just pointless fluff._ _I also need to turn these out faster, so I'll try to keep these chapters lean from here on in. I still won't shy away from exposition, though._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to keep this chapter short. I was going to have Garrus' shins broken for this chapter and make Adam apply some painful first aid with bone setting and his sonar vision, but decided it was just pointless fluff.


	6. You idiots.

Jensen had every intention on chewing Garrus out for incriminating Dr Michel. He even worked out a big speech while he was busy stuffing that unconscious janitor in the supply closet (he needed his keys). He was ready to remind Garrus that they were cops, not cowboys, and that a body count was more trouble than it was worth: even the lowest scumbag in the galaxy had friends and family, someone that would want retribution for their loss.

The speech died on Jensen's lips when he saw his naked partner strung up and covered in scars and dried blue blood, some of it pooled beneath his taloned feet. Retribution had extracted a toll on Garrus Vakarian's own flesh.

"Well," said Garrus. "You certainly took your sweet time. Got stuck in an air vent?"

Jensen proceeded to quickly secure the three unconscious perps, prioritizing the Salarian (as he was already stirring). He flash-cuffed them all in just under a half a minute, secured their weapons, and proceeded to get Garrus down from the meat-hook and sat him down on an empty Greasel cage. He reconfigured his Omni-tool into med-scan mode and scanned Garrus' body: It reported damaged skin, a fractured rib and some inert toxins in his digestive tract, deposited there by genetically-modified micro-organisms to be excreted later. Apparently, the human torturer had taken some care in keeping Vakarian alive, no doubt to extend his suffering. The drained resuscitation package on the table, however, implied that he hadn't been all that successful.

"Jesus...Vakarian, how long-"

"-Not long enough, Jensen." interrupted Garrus as he rubbed his sore arms. "I'll be fine. Just need to catch my breath for a minute. I don't suppose you've got anything to eat?"

"...Just my candy bars."

Said candy bars weren't dextro, of course. "Damn."

"Let's get you some dignity, instead. Do you know where they put your gear?"

"They put everything in an incinerator." Garrus nodded at the Salarian, bound and freshly stunned. "Although this guy took my heavy pistol."

"Don't worry, I got it."

"Good, but as much as I love that gun I don't plan on running around naked and bloody, shooting bad guys with it. I mean, can you imagine?' Garrus tried to have a laugh, but it quickly turned into a little coughing fit. "Anyway, I think that junky Phantom Armor's about my size. Help me get it off that guy, would you?"

It took ten minutes to strip the armor off the unconscious Turian thug, time during which Jensen contacted Sergeant Bailey on his headset to confirm Vakarian's safety. Lang had contacted the older human C-Sec officer immediately after Jensen had left the clinic, and Bailey quickly put together a group of patrollers as reinforcements.

_"How's the young cuttle bone doing?" _asked Bailey.

"They gave him a 'greasy acupuncture' with an exacto knife," bluntly answered Adam.

_"...Jesus. He should be dead."_

"They injected him with enough Panacea to counteract the allergic reaction. Too bad Greasel spit is like acid on the nerves."

"_No kidding. Need us to come in?"_

"He's holding together and he can walk. I think i can get him out of here quietly."

_"Good to know. Look, my Lieutenant is starting to grill me about commandeering five patrol cars and just hovering above the Den. I can hold him at bay but it won't be long before he talks to the Chief and I'll have to tell them both about your rescue op...I'll need something to keep them happy when this is done. Got anything juicy?"_

"I took some photographic evidence of Zyme trafficking on the way in, plus I've got a few cages of Greasels in the basement. I doubt Fist has a license to breed those."

_"Send me the pics."_

Jensen let Garrus finish strapping on the armor by himself and typed a few buttons on his omni-tool, initiating a data upload to Bailey.

_"Good, good. I'll send this to the proper channels. We might be able to organize a raid against Fist later. Jensen?"_

"Yeah?"

_"Good luck."_

Garrus had finished putting the armor on and was getting started with calibrating the thin bundles of artificial muscle covering his limbs to prevent them from breaking his bones.

"Almost ready to go?" asked Jensen.

"In a minute. Mind getting a few hypos of Panacea Dextro from that medkit? I'm going to need them if we run into any Greasels on the way to Fist's office."

"Fist's office?" said Jensen as he picked up the hypos. "Vakarian, we're headed out the backdoor and getting you to a hospital, that's where we're going." He slapped the hypos against Garrus' chestplate.

"Fist is involved with Saren!" Garrus took the Panacea hypos and put them in a small satchel strapped to the small of his back. "A Quarian girl came to him-"

"-looking to contact the Shadow Broker. I know, Michel-"

"-with evidence connecting Saren to the Geth's attack of Eden Prime!"

Jensen's eyes widened under his shades, as it sounded almost too good to be true: A Quarian comes out of the blue with key evidence? "And Fist is now working for Saren? If that's true then she's probably already dead."

Garrus shook his head. "No, no. I thought so too and figured I might find her body here, but she was apparently just paranoid enough to demand a meeting with the Shadow Broker himself. Fist set up a meet, but she won't be meeting anyone but Saren's men. I have no idea where or when this is supposed to take place."

"How did you learn about this?"

"One drop of blood at a time," Garrus sighed. "You'd be surprised how much intel bad guys are willing to share with you when you're bound and at their mercy. In any case, I'm hoping to get the meeting's location out of Fist's PC, or if we're lucky..." His eye ridges took on a menacing expression. "...Fist himself."

"...I'll contact Bailey, let him know we're not coming out for a while."

"Then you're in?"

"Yeah," he withdrew the _Kassa Moongoose_ from his coat and handed it to Garrus. "I'm in. But let's keep this quiet, alright?"

**~[h+]~**

* * *

The main door to Chora's Den exploded, and the Krogan Mercenary known as Urdnot Wrex walked through the slagged doorway, his heavy assault shotgun at the ready. His wide-set eyes took stock of the situation around the large, circular room: Four humans with SMGs on the left, three humans and two salarians on the right, carrying SMGs and DMRs, respectively. He could hear the telltale croaking of angry Greasels hopped up on Zyme, and the heavy footfall for the Krogan thug he had been harassing hours earlier. Wrex smiled.

"This just might be fun," the old mercenary told himself as he cast a biotic Barrier around himself.

**~[h+]~**

* * *

The rumble of an explosion shook the basement, and from the bottom of the staircase Jensen and Vakarian could hear shouts, gunfire and screams.

"What in the hell?" Jensen was not happy. He had managed to sneak up to the stairwell with Garrus in tow, but the commotion upstairs would soon bring every hostile thug they snuck by to this very position.

"I..._might_ have forgotten about the Krogan merc that had been threatening Fist's life."

Jensen glared at Vakarian.

"I didn't think he would assault the Den on his own!" Garrus winced as the words left his mouth. Before he had been caught, that's pretty much exactly what he did.

"We have to run for it, if Fist is in league with Saren then we'll need him alive to testify! Go!"

The two C-sec agents ran up the staircase until they reached the automatic door at the top. Garrus went in first, then Jensen. As the door slid closed Jensen slammed the back of his fist into the electronic lock, causing the green hologram hovering above it to flicker and die. His motion scanner detected movement behind the now-non functional door. _Just in time_, Jensen thought to himself.

They were now in a sundry storage room with several weapons lockers and a few open crates. There were two heavy doors besides the one Jensen had just jammed, and Garrus shot the holo-lock on the one that lead to the bar (and the slaughter). Hopefully, it would delay the mercenary for a few precious seconds.

"How much farther to Fist's office?"

"Past this door..." he pointed the third door. "...into the VIP section. After that it's another stairwell up.

**~[h+]~**

* * *

They were all dead, save for the krogan bouncer. The bastard had gotten his hands on a Fortification mod for his bulletproof clothing and was covered in a non-Newtonian fluid held together by a low-intensity mass-effect field. Powerful as his shotgun was, Wrex's shots did nothing but bruise the bouncer. Meanwhile, Wrex's Barrier was about to give: he had simply taken too many shots and the bouncer's own shotgun had stopped venting its excess heat.

Wrex's fist glowed, and he sent a Warp bolt on the bouncer and took cover. Finding its mark, the bolt of biotic energy exploded and wrapped itself around the krogan thug. The multitude of shifting biotic pulses tore away the milky Fortification gel, creating a multitude of odd, branching shapes around the bouncer. When the Warp was done tearing at the layer, he had no protection left.

And then Wrex took aim and pressed down the trigger, letting his assault shotgun go full auto. The bouncer was turned into hamburger.

**~[h+]~**

* * *

"THERE IS NO WAY FIST IS PAYING THESE GUYS ENOUGH FOR THIS!" Garrus shouted over the loud roar of his _Mongoose. _He was firing itinto a human thug's kneecaps (_kill only if you have to_, Jensen had insisted). Despite being crippled, the criminal apparently wasn't in enough pain to _stop shooting_, and Garrus had to follow up by shooting him in the arms as well. He previously had to do this to eight of Fist's men.

"I'm pretty sure he just 'paid' them in Zyme!" answered Jensen. He was holding up a man in chokehold with one arm and firing his Hahne-Kedar Mark 23 light pistol at a hostile. He didn't like using human (or alien) shields, but there wasn't a whole lot of good cover to be had in the VIP room. At least the man had some cheap body armor on. "I had to use my stunner _twice_ on this guy and he's still struggling a bit!"

Garrus ducked back into his cover, a closed metal cart filled with snacks (which was now mostly made of holes) to let his gun cool. _Zyme_, Garrus thought. _Three times as potent as cocaine or Soma, and works wonders as a cheap substitute to combat stim. Fist probably had his men take a hit of that poison when he hastily set up this defense. Spirits damn him!_

Jensen and Garrus crippled the last remaining Zyme-fueled thug and quickly proceeded to the staircase leading to Fist's office. Or at least, that's what they would have done if the Krogan cook hadn't come out of the kitchen. He wasn't wearing any sort of protection, but he had a wild look to his eyes, traces of white powder on the top of his lip, and a meat cleaver slick with Greasel blood. He charged the two C-Sec agents, howling like a madman.

As six hundred and fifty pounds of insane, Zyme-snorting, cleaver-wielding Krogan came rushing at them, the same thought occurred between the two cops:

_Aw, shi-_

**~[h+]~**

* * *

Wrex stepped through the molten ruins of the door. Apparently Fist thought he could buy himself some time by locking the doors. He hated to admit it, but it had worked: Wrex had tried to use his physical might to pry open the door for a few minutes before giving up and using a thermite breaching charge.

He was in some kind of storage room with three doors. According to the map he was provided, the door on his right led to the basement, and the one on his left would take him to the VIP area, where Fist's men were no doubt setting up an ambush.

"I told you i could get it open!" said the Salarian tech to the dozen or so armed thugs behind him as the basement door opened. "Let's hurry and-" the technician's face blanched as he saw the fully armored Krogan mercenary, his red armor slick with several different colors of fresh blood.

"Hi." said Wrex as he aimed his assault shotgun at the Salarian's face.

**~[h+]~**

* * *

"I hope you saw that," said Jensen, catching his breath. "because I won't be doing it again."

The krogan chef was an unconscious heap on a broken wooden table. He was still clutching his cleaver despite having several bullet holes in his arms and legs, a dislocated shoulder and a drained stunner rod stuck in his eye socket.

Garrus was checking his heavy pistol's ammo block. "Eh, I softened him up for ya."

"How are you ammo wise?" Jensen asked. They had both needed to unload quite a bit of metal on their adversaries to take them down. While modern small arms could shave thousands of round out of a block, it didn't hurt to check every once in a while.

"Forty percent. You?"

Jensen checked his Mark 23's ammo block as he and his partner walked up the steps to Fist's office. "Fifty-seven. What are we going to find in that Office?"

"Just Fist."

"You're certain about that?" Adam turned up his Smart Vision just as they approached Fist's door, and the thermographic and t-wave imagers embedded in his eyes outlined objects of interest inside the office. More precisely: one human clad in a heavy hard-suit carrying an Avenger assault rifle modified with an oversized heat sink hiding behind a desk, and two undeployed machine gun turrets in the back. Jensen relayed that information to Garrus.

"Aw hell," answered the Turian cop. "Any cover we can use?"

"Pillars on our left and right."

"I got right, you got left." Garrus said as he typed on the door's holo-lock. "It isn't locked...heh, I guess he's inviting us in. You ready?"

"Ready. On three: one, two..."

Garrus pressed the main button on the holo-lock and the door snapped open.

"...three!" They both dove for their respective covers, taking potshots at the deploying turrets while in mid-air. They hit the ground rolling, taking cover behind the metal pillars. Garrus had gotten lucky shot in and perforated the left turret's main rotor before its shields deployed, Sadly, Jensen had only managed to hit the other turret in the armor, leaving its insides quite intact. It immediately began firing at his cover, keeping him suppressed.

"Vakarian!" Jensen shouted over the roar of the machine gun. "Think you might-"

_Blam. _Garrus' _Mongoose_ spat out a 2mm phasic round that tore through the turret's main optic, rendering the whole machine ineffective. "I just did." said Garrus, satisfied with himself. That only left Fist to deal with, and between his cover, heavy armor and assault rifle with superior cooling, he could keep both Adam and Garrus pinned for a long time. Adam considered calling Bailey and his reinforcements, but then they might run across the mercenary and Adam was unwilling to put good cops in danger. That left one option.

"Fist, you're under arrest! Put down the rifle and come out with your hands up!" Jensen had a faint hope that the crime lord would listen to reason and surrender without any more fuss, but who was he kidding? Lately, Fist did most of his thinking with Zyme.

Fist answered with a blind-fired burst of his Avenger rifle. "FUCK YOU, COP!"

Adam pressed on: "There's a Krogan merc headed here with every intention of killing you! Surrender to us, and we can keep you safe from him!"

"Safe?" the crime lord shouted back. "There's no keeping me 'safe', asshole! Don't you know who put a bounty on my head? The goddamned Shadow Broker, that's who! It doesn't matter if you bury me in a hole deep in the core of some bumfuck moon, he WILL find me and he WILL end me!"

"Alright, so you're as good as dead! But you can still decide how it ends: You could die here, shot to death or _worse_, or you could sit comfortably in a high security solitary cell until someone _might _come along and poison your meal! It's us or the Krogan, Fist! Decide, now!"

**~[h+]~**

* * *

Wrex wasn't happy. Sure, slaughtering the twenty-or-so thugs in that stairwell had brought a smile to his face, right up until one of them got clever and threw some kind of sticky mine at him. It stuck to his assault shotgun, and he quickly threw it down the stairwell, taking care of the four remaining idiots that were stupid enough to take shots at him from cover instead of running and hiding. Wrex wasn't the kind of guy that got sentimental over a weapon (he knew some old human merc that liked to give his guns _girl's_ _names_, of all things), but the Maxwell AS-24 could sling twelve-pellet shots at a rate of three hundred and forty rounds per minute. It could tear apart a fully armored adult Krogan in five seconds, and (if you had enough ammo blocks and kept the gun from overheating), you could keep an entire battalion at bay. Damn good gun. It was a shame to lose it.

_Heh, maybe I should have given it a name. It certainly deserved one. Oh well._

What really pissed him off though, was the fact that two thirds of his firepower just exploded downstairs. He still had his biotics and his _Carnifex_ with a bayonet stuck on the bottom mount. Scavenging something else was out: Fist apparently liked his mooks armed with crap.

And now Wrex was about to waste yet another breaching charge. Fantastic. He was pissing money away at this job, and he was thankful that the Shadow Broker always paid generously or there was no way he would make a profit.

The thick door leading to the VIP section exploded into molten metal, and Wrex stepped through, ready for another fight. Instead he found several humans and salarians lying down on the floor with their limbs either shot up or awkwardly bent into uselessness. There was one krogan, apparently a chef, who had a stun rod stuck in his eye. He was comatose, of course, but it seemed someone had gone out of his way to keep him and rest of these scum incapacitated, but alive.

_Somebody else is here. Did the Shadow Broker hire other mercs? Whoever did this is good. Kind of a pussy, but good._

There was a burst of gunfire from above the stairs leading to Fist's office, and someone screamed "Fist! No!"

Wrex hurried up the stairs and entered the office. A turian and a human were standing on each side of a steel desk, looking down at something obscured by the large piece of furniture. As he got closer, Wrex could feel the coppery scent of fresh human blood tickling the olfactory pits on the roof of his mouth. He had no problem putting two and two together, but what the turian said next pretty much confirmed what he already suspected.

"He just...Spirits! He just goes and chews on an assault rifle?" The turian stomped the corpse again and again, venting his rage. "YOU DON'T GET TO WALK AWAY LIKE THAT YOU PIECE OF-"

"Vakarian! Calm down!" ordered the human. He was also angry, but much, much more in control of himself. Wrex assumed he was in charge. "Look around, maybe there's something else we can find that'll give us the meeting's location! A pocket secretary, a post-it, an audio log, anything!"

Wrex cleared his throat, getting the attention of both men.

"You..._Idiots._"

**~[h+]~**

* * *

CODEX ENTRY: MEDICINE: MEDI-GEL: PANACEA

_Panacea is a Medi-Gel variant designed by Sirta Foundation to purge the body of contaminants, toxins, and allergens. It can be taken orally or injected directly, but once inside he body the genetically-engineered micro-organisms suspended in the protein solution identify and attack any foreign contaminants they come across. If they cannot break the contaminant down, they surround and encase its molecules and deposit them in the intestinal tract to be excreted from the body later. The latest formulas allow Panacea to counteract Anaphylactic shock. _

_Panacea's name has, unfortunately, caused some to believe it to be a cure-all capable of curing every single disease, especially sexually transmitted ones. Teenagers (and some adults) often engage in unprotected sex thinking a dose of Panacea before or after the act will prevent them from being infected._

_Sirta, sensing a market in the Citadel's Turian population, released Panacea Dextro. It is now a must have for the cosmopolitan turian civilian as well as the pioneer traveling in a hostile environment._

**~[h+]~**

* * *

DRUGS: RECREATIONAL: ILLEGAL: ZYME

_Zyme is a synthetic drug that appeared on earth during the 2050's. It was accidentally created by University student Myron Boone during an industrial fermentation experiment (hence the name, which mean "a ferment"), and had been the recreational drug of choice of Hollywood starlets and the homeless alike for centuries until the introduction of Red sand. While it does not have the same potent sensation of euphoria as Red Sand, The feeling of invincibility, heightened tolerance for pain and increased aggression it causes makes Zyme very useful as a cheap, easily available combat stim for up and coming mercenaries, terminus guerrilla and militant cults._

_Withdrawal symptoms include constipation, paranoia, and depression in the short term. The persistent, long term symptoms are delirium and memory loss._

**~[h+]~**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Mass Effect: Human Revolution! A race against time to save a Quarian girl holding the key to saving the galaxy from Saren! Will Jensen and Vakarian find her before Saren's assassins do? Stay tuned for the next chapter coming...sometime next month. :(
> 
> I slipped several references in this chapter: Garrus mocking the notion of running around naked and bloody shooting people is a Kane and Lynch 2 one, and the "one drop of blood at a time" comment is an Order of the Stick one (Thog is another). The scene in which Jensen and Vakarian dive and shoot is a bit silly, but i have an excuse: I had been playing a bit too much Max Payne 3. Damn good game.
> 
> Panacea is going to be important in next two chapters, I didn't just come up with it as a convenient excuse to keep Garrus alive. It also makes sense that there would be such a thing as Panacea: If the Deus Ex universe's humans has anything going for them, it's some damn impressive and diverse medical technology.


	7. Bystander Effect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is embarrassing - I completely forgot to include this chapter when I submitted this story here. If you were wondering what happened to Tali between chapters 6 and 7 — now 8 — well, here you go!

**Shadow Broker file REX-054: Transcript: Text Chat: Agent Brea (Anon) /Urdnot Wrex:**

_Wrex: Got your package. Thanks for the snazzy new phone. And the credit chit just warms my hearts._

_Anon: Glad to hear it. Check its menu. Inside the file folder titled "Job" you'll find the necessary intel for the task at hand. Names, faces, locations, maps._

_Wrex: Enemy composition?_

_Anon: Also there, but the gist of it? 64 light infantrymen mostly armed with barely decent SMGs and pistols. _

_Wrex: Yeah, i can see that in the file._

_Wrex: So...you'd like Fist alive?_

_Anon: Let's just say he has a few things to answer for, betraying us for Saren being one of them. Will that be a problem?_

_Wrex: Nah, no problem. But the Broker doesn't usually call me for live jobs. Plus, I hear Fist's been snorting his Greasels' Zyme supply pretty hard lately. He may force my hand._

_Anon: There's a first time for everything. Still, we won't be too sad if Fist were to suffer an unfortunate accident, but you won't be paid the full amount for his corpse._

_Anon: Just make sure you extract the Quarian as well, and secure any data storage media in Fist's office._

_Wrex: Right, the Quarian's the main objective?_

_Anon: Yes and no. We're far more interested in the intel she has in her Omni-Tool than her well-being. Still, we had an agreement with her and we'd like to try to hold up our end of the bargain. So, full fee for her brought in alive, half that for just the intel. No intel, no cash._

_Wrex: Did I mention that the Shadow Broker also used to give me simpler jobs? Find Target. Kill Target. Get paid. All these caveats and addendums are giving me a headache._

_Anon: You *could* hire some sub-contractors to hold your hand, if you'd like? _

_Wrex: Heh._

_Wrex: Nah, I want all the fun to myself. I'm greedy that way. Well, I have some shopping to do. I'll call you when I collar Fist._

_Wrex has left the conversation_

**~[h+]~**

**File REX-055: Transcript: Text Chat: Agent Brea (Anon) /Urdnot Wrex:**

_Anon: Yes?_

_Wrex: Things just got really, really interesting._

_Anon: Define interesting._

_Wrex: Fist is dead. Here's a picture._

_Anon: That's all? It wasn't unexpected. I'm transferring your 'dead' fee right now._

_Wrex: I didn't kill him. _

_Anon: Transfer done._

_Anon: Wait, What?_

_Wrex: Not directly anyways._

_Anon: Explain._

_Wrex: Two cops decided to give Fist a visit just as I made my grand entrance. They beat me to him. _

_Anon: And they killed him?_

_Wrex: No, they wanted to interrogate him. Turns out they wanted the Quarian too, but Fist killed himself before they could get anything out of him. _

_Anon: Why would he do that?_

_Wrex: I might have been harassing him just a little and let him think i was out to kill him. Thought I'd try messing with his head a little._

_Anon: ...It doesn't matter. Secure his files. Have you found the Quarian, at least?_

_Wrex: Nope. Turns out she wasn't even at Fist's club. As for Fist's files, well... good news and bad news. Good news: I know where she's going to be. Bad news: I had to let the cops take and crack Fist's files to get her location. She's headed for a trap laid by Saren, and we're headed for it right now. _

_Anon:...you left the cops alive? Not only that, you cooperate with them and let them get their hands on Fist's intel? Urdnot, what in the hell were you-_

_Wrex: Killing cops was never part of the job_. _They help me get the girl, They give me a copy of her intel, I give it to you. Everyone's happy. _

_Anon: That intel is worthless if those cops get a look at it._

_Wrex: It's no use to you or anyone if Saren gets his hands on it. _

_WrexI'll finish the job. Deal with the cops however you like. It's not my damned problem._

_Wrex has left the conversation_

**~[h+]~**

Wrex's 'phone' collapsed its keyboard and screen into itself to take the form of a box the size of a pack of cigarettes. He stuffed the box inside his legpack and put his hands on the haptic wheel, but didn't turn off the autopilot. His Skyvan's Nav computer was set to follow this crappy old Spinner, a model of hovercar that was a common before those damned X3Ms rose to practically monopolize the aircar market. The Spinner was pretty fast, though: way above Shuttle Standard. Wrex's van had to shove more electricity in its eezo core to keep up.

Wrex kinda wished those two cops riding the Spinner would let him go manual already. It wasn't every day that a merc like him got to drive on the Cop's Highway at high speed. Then again, it wasn't every day that he worked with cops, either. When he encountered the two C-Sec agents, he had thought that he was dealing with two bounty hunters and was sorely tempted to shoot them for screwing him out of two million credits. When the human called the Turian by his name though, Wrex suddenly knew who he was dealing with.

Adam Jensen and Garrus Vakarian. The Citadel's two resident super-cops. The two of them had caught some of the station's nastiest killers and the criminals that got in their way tended to wind up crippled, comatose, dead or some combination thereof. Rumor had it that the just between the two of them the Citadel's crime rate had dropped seven percent.

Wrex was pretty confident he could have taken them. Too bad it simply wasn't worth it. Two reasons: Fitst, killing cops was always a bad idea, especially if their pals knew who did it. Most cops couldn't be bothered to find the one responsible for killing some poor duct rat kid in the Upper Wards, but Holy Void did they come down hard on a cop killer. Second, killing these two wouldn't have gotten him any closer to the Quarian, as it turned out she wasn't hiding out at Fist's at all. Wrex was a good tracker, but sifting through electronic paper and files wasn't his strong suit. As luck would have it, Jensen and Vakarian were very tech saavy and had extracted the girl's location from Fist's encrypted files.

And so an odd, if temporary, partnership was formed (at gunpoint): The Turian saw the value of having a Krogan bounty hunter around for sniffing out their quarry if she decided to run and hide (and, you know, soaking in bullets if Saren's men attacked them). Wrex saw the value in working with cops, if only to keep the rest of C-Sec off his back (and, you know, those two could soak bullets if Saren's men attacked him). The human was more inclined to make an arrest than cooperating, but Vakarian had made a good point.

They were headed for Upper Zakera. Despite what 'upper' implied, Upper Zakera wasn't a nice place. It was as close to a slum as you could get on the Citadel. The rich and the influential wanted to be as close as possible to the presidium ring and Tower (the 'Lower' reaches, from the tower's perspective). Consequently, the poor shifted towards the Upper reaches of the Wards. Zakera Ward's upper slum district wasn't quite as bad as the others on account that a steady trickle of stolen goods came into the district and was distributed around the area by the Bazaar. Still, that didn't mean it was safe for rich(er) folk to travel there, and cops were certainly not welcome as people there preferred to make their own justice.

Jensen's Spinner parked itself in a berth just twenty meters away from the meeting place, on a busy street close to the bazaar. Wrex took control of his hover van and parked it near the Spinner, turned off his vehicle's engines and got out. He took in the smell of the place and smiled. In any other part of the Citadel just smelled too damned clean. This place reeked of stale piss and vomit, old blood and older meat, spices and drugs, trash and wood. Most of these smells came from Upper Zakera's Bazaar, carried over by the wind generators that kept the Citadel's air from becoming too stale. Junk supported by plaster, wood and nails was mounted on low-rise buildings as improvised cheap housing inhabited by colorfully dressed poor people. It was Wrex's kind of place, a pressure cooker filled with potential violence, heated by bitterness and starvation, ready to explode into a riot. And there would be a riot: the big wigs at the Presidium instituted regulations and laws that slowly robbed the denizens of the Upper Wards their rights to live there in some snobbish, high handed attempt to 'clean up' the Citadel. Bad idea: food may be hard to come by in these slums, but guns were common and cheap.

_Maybe I ought to stay here a while. Get front row seats to the spectacle. Business first, though._

Wrex took a swig of Ryncol from his flask, and made his way towards the cops. It was time to do this.

**~[h+]~**

"Stay in the car," commanded Jensen as he left the vehicle.

"I'm _fine,_ Jensen! I can hardly feel the stinging anymore. I can-"

"I'm not benching you," Jensen half-lied. "I need you to be my eyes in the sky. If the Quarian isn't there or if Saren's men attack us, then we might need air support."

Garrus still didn't like it, but he knew better than to argue at the moment. He moved into the Spinner's driver's seat and took control of the craft. "Alright... Spirits, I hate driving this old piece of crap. Does this thing have guns?"

"Nope." Jensen was going to mount a heavy P.E.P.S between the prongs but couldn't get his hands on the necessary permits. Jensen pointed at the comm headset on the dashboard. "Keep a channel open."

"Will do." Vakarian closed the Spinner's side door and Jensen watched as the old vehicle rose into the pale, purple sky. The human cop was soon joined by the Krogan mercenary, who had just parked his van.

"What, he's sitting this one out?" asked Wrex.

"Air support," answered Jensen as he started his stride, crossing a street busier with foot traffic than ground cars.

"Smart." stated Wrex as he followed the cop. "What kind of guns did you put on that car?"

"None."

Wrex snorted. "Well, that's going be some crappy air support, then."

Adam hid his annoyance. "Just try to keep up."

**~[h+]~**

"You're late," said the barefaced Turian in front of Tali. His voice was deep and rumbling, and his skin was an unusual shade of pale green veined in blue. He was dressed in a black bodysuit made of ballistic cloth, and Tali's HUD highlighted the presence of small eezo signatures - the central components in hard-suit shields. These were tier VII, at least. She wasn't sure her shotgun could overcome them, should things turn sour. The Turian was also carrying a _Cicada_ _Mk V _machine pistol on his hip, outclassing her firepower completely. She was glad that she had left a few surprises hidden in the trashcans around the two alley's crossing...

"Have you brought it?" asked the same voice behind her. Tali looked behind her, startled. She beheld the same face staring down at her with pale blue eyes. She had to admit that she had a hard time telling Turians apart unless they had a different skin tone or colonial markings painted on their face, but these two albino Turians just _had_ to be twins.

"What is this? Where's Fist? Where's the Shadow Broker?"

"They are not coming," said the same voice from the backstreet on the right. A Triplet? He and two Salarians had come out of shadows.

"You have been betrayed," again, the same voice! This time from the left, with three Salarians. Clones! These Turians had to be clones! And now they surrounded her!

"Your life is forfeit," said the clone in front of her. Before she could reach for her shotgun, the clone behind her seized her from behind with a bear hug. He was strong, and she could feel her ribs strain under the pressure.

"Tell us where you hid the data," said the clone holding her, "and your passing will be quick. Resist, and you will die..." He pressed his mandibles on the side of her neck. "..._screaming._"

Tali's answer came with the glow and beep of her Omni-tool. "No deal, _bosh'tet._"

**~[h+]~**

_Boom._

Jensen was beginning to hate that sound. _Nothing_ good ever came out of that sound.

"I know that noise!" said Wrex. "Landmines, Flash-built by an Omni-Tool. Our Quarian's here!"

Garrus' voice came through loud on Jensen's earpiece: "Jensen! I'm right over the meeting spot! There's a cloud of thick smoke over it!"

Jensen's stride turned into a sprint and he left the Krogan merc behind. He had to hurry!

"Vakarian! Scan the place!"

"Already on it! I've got 10 blips, and seven of them are fading fast! One of them is making a bee line for the Bazaar - It's the Quarian!"

_She's alive. Thank god. _Adam turned around a corner and came across an intersection of two backstreets. It was, indeed, full a smoke, prompting Adam to turn on his Smart Vision before entering the cloud. He could make out the golden outlines of seven bodies - five salarians, two turians - who had died from the trauma of a pressure wave. He choked on the smell of rotting bodies, and realized quickly how odd it was that the Turians were already decomposing before his very eyes. His Implanted Rebreather kicked in, and reported the presence of toxins in the air. What had the Quarian used in her explosives?

"Two blips are moving after her!"

Jensen cleared the cloud of smoke and saw two pale green turians chasing the Quarian girl down the small alley. She had a head start, but these two turians were excellent sprinters, and would catch up to her in seconds. Jensen was much, _much_ faster, but he was at least twenty meters away. By the time he caught up to them, they'd be right on top of the Quarian. Not wanting this to turn into a hostage situation or worse, Adam drew his HK-23 from its holster and aimed at the closest Turian.

**~[h+]~**

The clones were getting closer, and Tali knew it. Her sensors relayed their presence into her HUD, and they were catching up faster than she had thought possible. She prayed that her legs would let her make it to the Bazaar, where there would be plenty of people, hurdles, twists and turns she could use to lose her pursuers.

Someone shouted something about...frost? And Tali heard the report of the _Cicada_. When Tali's shield capacitors failed to drain, her curiosity took over, and she looked back at her pursuers. As it turned out, they seemed to be pursued themselves by a human man in a long blue coat. He was running and gunning at them, his gun strangely unwavering and aimed at their faces as it fired. Their shields easily absorbed the bullets, but the mass effect flashes that peppered their faces threw off their aim and their counter attacks went wide. They tried to compensate by shooting continuously, but the human was undaunted and the clone's guns went into Emergency Cooldown Mode. Whoever that human was, he had bought Tali precious time.

"Hold him off!" commanded the clone that had held her from behind. He had thrown away his heavy pistol in a fit of rage and frustration. "The suit rat is _mine_!" He disengaged from the human firing at them and resumed the chase. Tali, running on the Quarian analog to adrenaline, pushed herself to run faster and harder than ever.

**~[h+]~**

_Damned military-grade shields, _Adam cursed inwardly. He really should have known that a Spectre's underlings would have access to superior gear. He fired fifteen rounds into each of the Turian men's heads and their shields held at 70 percent. It had, fortunately, distracted them long enough for the Quarian to get away into the Bazaar. A chase with bystanders in the way was tricky even for an olympic sprinter.

Both of Saren's men had foolishly let their guns overheat in an attempt to scare off Jensen, and he saw an opportunity to finish this hand-to-hand. One of the pale green turians holstered his overheated weapon and stood his ground, another attempt at delaying Adam while his partner kept chasing the Turian. He rushed the Turian, ready to bury a carbon fist in his face.

Instead, Adam found himself slammed against the wall, a painful reminder that he wasn't the only one trained in CQC throws. Thankfully, his body armor and his Rhino Dermal implants had soaked much of the impact, sparing his torso's bones. He recovered quickly, and attempted to shoot the Turian's thigh at point blank range, well past the minimum range of his kinetic barriers. Instead, the Turian quickly grabbed Adam's HK-23 by the barrel and attempt a disarm by twisting the gun sideways, using the gun's trigger guard to break the cop's finger. Adam's grip held fast, though, and what wound up breaking instead was the entire weapon.

_This guy's fast, and incredibly strong. It's time to get serious._

The Turian quickly pulled his freshly cooled machine pistol in an attempt to do unto Jensen as he had tried to do unto him. Jensen reacted by slapping the gun away with his left hand and buried the incredibly hot ruins of his pistol into the Turian's left eye. He did not scream, even as he could feel the precious, tiny ball of jelly boil away and his response was to swat Jensen's gun arm away and headbutt him. Stunned, Jensen could do nothing as the Turian seized him by the collar and threw him away like a ragdoll into a nearby pile of trashcans. Jensen recovered quickly and got back on his feet. The Turian withdrew his knife, and took on stance, ready to stab Jensen in the belly. It was time to finish this.

Adam triggered his Quicksilver Reflex Booster with a thought, and the world slowed down. He took on a defensive stance, and planned his next moves.

_He only looks like he's going to strike low. Telegraphing on purpose. Too much protection on my chest, and he's probably figured out my arms aren't flesh. Will attempt to slash throat with his right hand. Block with right arm, extend left arm-blade and stab into his left elbow. Will ignore pain and attempt a heel kick to the stomach. Cannot allow this. Retract blade immediately, step on foot. Grab wrist with right hand, grab back quills with right hand and throw him on his back. Severed tendons on right arm, broken leg and trauma to the back of the skull will incapacitate him enough for him to be secured with flash-cuffs._

The Turian had formulated moves on his own, and both men executed them.

Well, they would have. What actually happened was that a biotically accelerated eight-hundred pound Krogan in dark red armour tackled the Turian down on the floor. He then roared and headbutted him, and the Turian's skull exploded, his brains and eyes splattered against the concrete. Urdnot Wrex stood up and looked down at his kill, feeling a bit proud of himself as he rubbed the dark blue blood from his crest. Splatter like that was _art _on Tuchanka.

Jensen was angry. He had the situation under control, and then some dinosaur just charges in and-

"If milady is done _dancing,_" said Wrex, "We've got a Quarian to save!"

Before he could argue back, the rest of Turian's body started to _melt_. A thin green miasma emanated from its now exposed ribcage. Adam's internal rebreather activated, warning him that the gas was toxic. "What in the hell..."

Wrex answered the question: "Pharm-Augs. These birds marinated themselves in a vat of green gunk or something. Nice and cheap way to make mutant supersoldiers out in the Terminus."

_Supersoldiers. And you let one of them get away. Goddamn you, Adam. If she dies, it's on you._

_"...It's all on you, bratán." _Garvin Quinn's damning voice echoed inside Jensen's head.

Garrus' voice came over Jensen's headset. "...Jensen."

_No. Please, no..._

"...We've got a problem."

**~[h+]~**

Tali toppled a garbage can over, and her pursuer stumbled and fell. It bought her more time, more time to run, more time to make her way to the middle of the bazaar, where the thicker crowd would hide her. She dodged and weaved across the foot traffic; many heads turned out of curiosity, bodies moved out of the way out of worry, but not a soul intevened on her behalf. Did they not care that she was being chased? Did they not see the violence in that Turian's eyes?

_It's none of my business. Someone else with take care of this._

These few simple words had damned so many before her. Women had been raped in front of whole crowds. Men whose only crime was being born with the wrong skin color had been publicly beaten to death. The people had been allowed to commit these crimes because of these words.

For Quarians, there were another two words that could doom them just as easily.

"Stop, thief!"

The pale-green Turian clone, in a moment of brilliance, bellowed the two worst words a young Quarian on her pilgrimage could hear. Before long, looks of worry and curiosity were replaced by expressions of disgust and scorn. Quarians were filthy, dirty little thieves and vagabonds. Everyone suspected them, and they were just waiting for confirmation, an excuse to punish them like the dogs they were.

Tali kept running, hoping to escape the stares. She drew out her shotgun, hoping to intimidate anyone thinking about putting their hands on her.

"Stop, thief!"

Fresh stares of disgust and hate...

"Thief!"

...and then finally, action.

Javier and Hector were two teenage boys, barely eighteen, bored out of their minds and looking for some excitement. When some deep rumbling voice shouted something about a thief and they saw some suit-rat bitch running towards them, they knew they had found it.

They acted like they were going to get out of her way, but just as she passed them, they stuck their feet out, tripping her. She fell face first onto the dirty concrete and her visor cracked slightly. Her shotgun clattered away from her reach.

Two words, and two boys, and she had been caught.

**~[h+]~**

Garrus desperately tried to find the girl on his sensors, but all he found where a multitude of life signs. Once she had reached the bazaar, she practically vanished in plain sight. While Jensen had spent a pretty penny outfitting the old aircar with decent sensors, but they weren't exactly cutting edge: they couldn't quite tell the difference between a Quarian and Vorcha. Eyeballing it was out of the question: too much motion, too much color. Poor people had an eclectic sense of fashion.

It occurred to him that no Quarian ever leaves the Flotilla without personal shielding, and he altered the sensor settings to scan for element zero signatures. He found several, but he was interested in the two strong ones that were moving fast throughout the bazaar. It had to be the Quarian and her pursuer.

Then one of the blips stopped.

Garrus realized what just happened and commed Jensen.

"...Jensen, we've got a problem. I've got a lock on the Quarian, she's alive, but she's been immobilized. She's sixty meters from where you are, tipward. "

Vakarian could hear a sigh of relief over the comm. "We're on our way. Can you do anything to help her?"

"Short of crashing the Spinner on top of Saren's goon? Street's too crowded to land on it, and the nearest landing spot is on top of a building four stories high. I'm headed for it now, I might be able to take potshots at him-"

"You are NOT firing into a crowded street! You'll cause a panic!"

Garrus hovered above where the Quarian had stopped and turned activated the Spinner's cameras. The girl was being held by the arms by two tall human...teenagers? They couldn't have been working for Saren...

**~[h+]~**

They held her by the arms. Two tall boys on the edge of being men. They looked so skinny, yet they had a wiry strength to them that made their grips strong. Tali struggled to free herself, but the boys held fast. Her exhaustion started catching up with her legs and lungs: Quarians did their best to keep fit, but there wasn't much opportunity to practice long distance sprinting in the crowded ships of the Flotilla.

The Turian clone slowly approached with murder in his eyes.

"Let me go! I didn't steal anything from him!"

"Shut up!" shouted the taller of the boys on her right as he kneed her in the belly. His name was Hector, his father was an EVA certified construction worker, and he was miserable because Quarians had come along and robbed him of his job. Every single job he had. It's what he said, after the drinks.

Before the beatings.

Quarians made Hector's life miserable. His father said so, and so he hated Quarians. He didn't give half a rat's ass if she was innocent or not. He knew she'd suffer. He wanted her too.

The Turian got closer and he withdrew a knife.

Javier was worried, now. He had just wanted some excitement and had hoped for a little reward for his heroism. But that Turian was trouble, he could feel it.

Something clicked under Hector's chin.

Hector didn't think quarians had weapons mounted on their wrists, and didn't think much of holding their arms in such a way as to keep their hands away from beneath her Jaw. He really should have, the mini-crossbow mounted on the Quarian's wrist might've been pointed at something slightly less vital than his brains.

Hector's eyes widened. Tali's voice went cold. "Let me go. _Now._"

Time froze, and Hector briefly considered letting her go...but somewhere in the back of his head, his father's voice held dominion.

_It's all their fault._

It was their fault they were poor. It was their fault his father kept drinking, no matter how much Mama begged him to stop. It was their fault they lived in his hole. It was their fault he couldn't go to school.

_It's all *her* fault._

He tried twisting her wrist away, but he wasn't aware of one important fact: the mini-crossbow was wired to Tali's nervous system via her suit. The start he gave her galvanized her nerves, and she involuntarily sent the signal to loose the bolt.

Hector had died slowly, and his body went limp.

Javier, too shocked to process what had happened, didn't resist as Tali threw him at the Turian and dove for her shotgun. He could barely feel the turian's talon as it sliced his belly and his intestines spilled onto the ground. He said "mom?", over and over, until the light finally left his eyes.

The Turian, drunk on blood, was on top of Tali in less than a second, pining her to the ground. Soon, it would be over, and he would bring the Quarian's head to the Master. He raised his knife triumphantly, aiming for her skull. His mandibles flared and his mouth opened in a shout of victory.

_Bang._

His head exploded from behind, the buckshot at point blank having torn its way through his brain. The rest of his body slumped besides Tali, and she pushed the corpse off herself. A crowd was forming around her. Various, multiracial expressions of shock, disgust and horror at what had just happened surrounded her.

Then the green gas emanating from the Turian's corpse reached the lungs in the crowd, and more innocent people started to die.

**~[h+]~**

The crowd was panicked. Wrex and Jensen tried to make their way to the Quarian, but it was like swimming against the flow of a river. Adam attempted to use his free running skills to bypass the flow of panicked people coming his way, but it was no use: there weren't any alternate paths to take. No walkways, no arrays of crates, nothing. By the time the merc and the cop got to the coordinates Garrus gave them, the Quarian was long gone. In her place were the corpses of a dozen men and a women.

A few children. Gas didn't discriminate.

At the center of the scene were the molten remains of the Turian assassin inside a body suit, and the bodies of two teenage boys. One of them had a bolt sticking out the top of his skull. Another had been gutted, no doubt by the assassin by the look of his bloody knife.

There was a rumble in the ground, and shouts in the air. News was spreading of this. A riot was coming, he was certain of it.

"...Vakarian," Adam spoke to his headset. "...tell me you've got her."

**~[h+]~**

_Oh Keelah, what have i done what have I done I couldn't have known about that toxin inside of him I just wanted to scare that boy why did he hate me so much why didn't he just let me go I'm so sorry I just want to live_

It wasn't over. She was starting to think it would never be over. As she hacked through the sewer's manhole, a mob had formed in the distance, made from people who had borne witness to her leaving the scene of the massacre. They were walking intently towards her, rage in their eyes and various improvised weapons in hand.

_Hurry_

A blue aircar with two prongs in front landed with a loud crash, blocking the way of the mob. A Turian came out, a heavy pistol in hand. He was armored in an orange and tiger strip Phantom armor. He drew a huge pistol and fired it in the air, its report and blue flash cowing everyone. He turned to her.

_No no no hurry_

The manhole bleeped and its lights glowed green as it opened. Tali got in immediately.

"Wait! I'm with C-sec! I'm here to help you!" shouted the Turian as he ran towards her.

_No it's a trick C-Sec doesn't come here he's lying he is with Saren he wants to kill you_

She entered the sewers and closed the manhole. Its locks engaged and its electronics exploded, blooming into sparks. The Turian swore as he tried to open it, but no one would be doing that any time soon. Not even the men who had tried to save her.

"Jensen?" said Vakarian, his breath short, into his headset. "No, I haven't got her. She's went into the sewers. I've lost her."

**~[h+]~**

* * *

CODEX ENTRY: MEDICINE: AUGMENTATION:

PHYSIOPHARMACEUTICAL AUGMENTATION.

_Physiopharmaceutical augmentation (or Pharm-Aug for short) is a type of augmentation that involves treating a subject with various pharmaceutical drugs and mutagens to enhance his or her physical and even biotic capabilities. Psychological conditioning can even decrease reflex reaction times and increase pain tolerance nearly to the point of anesthesia. It is sometimes used as an alternative to gene-modification._

_For all the advantages Pharm-aug can provide, it is not without its flaws: side effects of the chemical treatments include depigmentation of the skin and severe alteration of the vocal cords, giving a Pharm-Aug a freakish appearance. The more invasive Pharm-Aug processes can halve someone's life expectancy. Terrorist organizations use certain pharmaceuticals to transform willing (and sometimes unwilling) hosts into toxic suicide bombers._

_The process rose to prevalence throughout the Terminus systems as a cheap method of creating an army of supersoldiers. The cheaper, easier to maintain augmentation method (besides the existence of biotics) is one of the primary reasons why mechanical augmentation, which its high maintenance costs, was phased out throughout the galaxy_

**~[h+]~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tali's going to need a big hug when this is over. :(
> 
> I wonder who could this agent Brea be? :)
> 
> So. Space Favella. What the heck, right? I decided to have the Upper wards become the slums of the Citadel because its one of the staples of the cyberpunk genre: A sharp divide between the rich who lives in the glamourous spires of the station, and the poor, who live in old concrete buildings with junky shacks congesting the streets. Why concrete on the Citadel? I know the station is made of metal, but I always found that a city made completely of metal kinda broke my suspension of disbelief.
> 
> Two million credits sounds like a lot for a bounty, but when you consider books can cost 1000 credits from a Citadel vending machine, it makes you think... My personal conversion rate from Credit to American Dollar is 100:1.
> 
> So, 2.000.000 Creds = 20.000 US Dollars.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Up next on Mass Effect: Human Revolution? Riots! Lynch mobs! A sewer level! Tune in next week!


	8. The Girl in Indigo

"You know, this has got to be the cleanest, nicest smelling sewer I've ever been in," said Wrex after sucking in a lungful of air. It was indeed impeccable: the walls were polished dark brass, and the floor was made of gleaming, seamless ceramic of a matching color. The flow of waste that divided the floor was the only filth here, and it was contained in a cylindrical mass effect field that kept it a centimeter apart from the pristine ceramic. Wide fluorescent strips on the floor and ceiling cast a green gloom on a Krogan, a Turian and a Human cyborg, the three men that had come to save a Quarian girl from a rogue Spectre's assassins. The assassin's were all dead, mostly through the girl's combined use of flash-built explosives, paranoia, and a shotgun. Now, the goal had shifted from rescuing her from Saren's men to rescuing her from the fifty thousand squatters who were enraged at coming under chemical attack. Thirty people had died slow, agonizing deaths, and their friends and family were looking for the one that was apparently responsible.

Ultimately, it was Saren's fault for sending in Pharm-Aug'd Turians modified with Self-Termination systems after an armed Quarian in a crowded slum. But Quarians, of course, made for more convenient scapegoats for everyone else's problems.

Said Quarian had escaped into the sewers and locked the manhole behind her, not knowing that she had inadvertently cut herself off from rescue. The three men had to find another way in, and the closest manhole they could find was one hundred and fifty meters away. By the time they got to her last known location in the sewers, she was long gone into the maze of tunnels funneling Zakera Ward's liquid filth to the nearest processing plant.

Fortunately, Wrex caught her scent.

It was, of course, the same scent that stuck on every Quarian: a mixture of leather, plastic, dyed cloth and disinfectant. It wasn't hard to track it thanks to the level of cleanliness in which the Keepers kept these sewers. With his 'nose', Wrex led the group towards the Presidium, then spin-ward, then tip-ward and then spin ward again. It was then that the Krogan caught other scents, the kind that belonged to angry animals: Humans, mostly, but also some Drell, Salarians...and Greasels.

"Some rioters came down here," stated Wrex, "looking for her with pet Greasels."

"...Think they found her?" asked Garrus. He didn't dare voice his concerns: a bite from the nasty critters could easily breach the Quarian's suit and infect her with something. And then they'd start to feed...

"I don't smell blood, but damn if she hasn't led them on a merry chase, I can smell them all over this place!"

"She could have set traps for them, but I didn't hear any explosions. She couldn't have run out of Omni-Gel so quickly..."

"...She didn't want to see any more people die," said Adam. "Least of all because of her."

"Aw, Void!" cursed the Krogan. "Someone tries to kill you, you kill them right back! If she doesn't-"

Faint gunfire echoed from the tunnels, then an explosion roared through them.

"-speaking of Tech Mines."

"It's our Quarian!" declared Garrus. "She must be under attack!"

Adam ran in the direction of the blasts, going as fast as he possibly could - only to encounter thick metal bars in his way. There was no way he'd fit between them. He grabbed two bars and tried widening the gap between them, but they simply would not budge.

"God dammit!" he cursed through clenched teeth.

"Stand back!" shouted Wrex as his fist glowed a fierce blue in the green gloom. "I'll soften them up!"

Jensen complied, and the Krogan Battlemaster threw a Wide Area Warp bolt at the bars. In less than a minute their molecular density had been corrupted so much that both Jensen and Wrex could bend them far apart enough to fit through. They had to widen it for a Krogan, though, and the whole process had taken far too long for anyone's liking, but trying to get around the barred way would have gotten them lost: The Protheans liked their sewers complex.

More gunfire, shouts of victory and then... nothing.

They had little choice but to keep following Wrex's 'nose', and they encountered another set of bars.

"You're _certain _that's the way?" queried Adam.

"Smells are getting stronger that way." answered the Krogan as he released a Warp blast at the bars. When the biotic energies had done their work, he grabbed a corrupted metal rod. "Let's get to work."

**~[h+}~**

Once again, they were too late. They had to overcome yet one more set of bars and they had encountered a search party composed of three Humans, a Salarian and a Drell. Both situations had been easily dealt with, but it had taken precious time to do so.

Wrex stated that the Quarian's scent was at its strongest in the spot they were standing on, and yet, she wasn't here. Instead there was the corpse of a Greasel with blood in its mouth with its belly torn by buckshot, gunshot marks on the walls and spent thermal caps glowing orange in the green gloom. The blood was a shade of dark purple, and after Wrex had seized the lizard's head and sniffed its bloody maw, he confirmed Garrus' fears: the blood was the Quarian's. The Greasel had bitten her right through her suit.

A metal ladder was nearby, leading to a manhole and the world above. At the bottom of the ladder was a small black box the size and shape of a cigarette pack, but curved to fit on someone's wrist and dotted with lenses and studs. It was an Omni tool, and Jensen knelt, picking it up. As he did, a haptic button appeared on its surface, asking to be pressed. Jensen obliged, and on the palm of his hand a hologram took the form of a young Quarian woman. She was wearing a dark blue-gray high-tech full body suit wrapped with faded indigo cloth strips patterned with curved white lines. She was slumped against an invisible wall, shotgun in hand, her suit ruined at the leg. She looked so weak and vulnerable...

"_I don't know who you are... Maybe you're a Vorcha looking for something to kill or sell or eat. Maybe you're a mindless keeper cleaning up a mess. You might even be one of the men who wanted me dead. I know there's no way I can convince you to keep listening to this, but I don't care: I have to take the chance- the small, precious chance that - that you might care. _

_Oh Keelah, I'm recording my last words in a sewer..."_

She started coughing, but repressed it and continued. Garrus was watching the recording as well, over Adam's shoulder.

_"My name is Tali'Zorah, child of the Rayya. I don't remember much from the early years of my life, as i spent it like all Quarian children: learning about our history, learning how to fix a ship, learning how to survive aboard a ship and outside of it. I was like all the other children, save for one detail: My father is Admiral Rael'Zorah, a leader and storied hero amongst our people. Things were expected of me. Greater things, and I was never allowed to forget it, right up to my Pilgrimage._

_I spent a whole year looking for something to bring back, along with another young Quarian on his own Pilgrimage. His name was Keenah'Breizh, child of the Moreh, and early on we had managed to find an old corvette: it was old, fitted with VTOL plasma jets and had an oversized eezo drive on its aft, but it was a good ship...with a good soul. A good enough gift for any Quarian to bring back to the fleet and be welcomed into a crew. But it wasn't good enough for a Zorah. Things were expected of me, and Keenah - ancestors bless him - was kind enough to help me look. _

_He's dead now, because of me._

_...Noveria. We flew over the surface, scanning for anything of value. What we found instead...were Geth, beyond the Veil. We managed to isolate one and salvage its memory core, and what we found inside was horrible: Attack plans for an imminent attack on Eden Prime, and a recording implicating a Turian named Saren. He ordered the slaughter of...thousands? Millions? And he did it by unleashing an uncaring, unfeeling machine horde upon these people. Kennah and I knew it was too late for these people, and then came the time to do something with the core we had salvaged. I could have gone home, offered up the core to a captain and bring an end to my Pilgrimage. But I knew how insular we can be, and I knew that once the core was in the hands of the Admirals it would never leave see the light of day again. Nobody would know who was responsible for these deaths. That was fine with Keenah, It would have been fine for anyone else. _

_But not me. _

_I decided- no, I KNEW I had to do the right thing. I came here, hoping to speak for the dead and point at their murderer for all to see and punish. But no one wanted to listen to me. No one would speak for me. No one moved a finger when I was shot through the arm with poisoned bullets, and that bosh'tet doctor wanted triple the price for treatment. When I tried to give the police the evidence, they spat at me, shoved me away, yelled at me, threatened my life simply because my mere presence ruined their day. When I tried to contact the human government, I was given the same treatment. I had the very proof that they needed, and they did not care. Everywhere I went, nobody cared._

_And because of they did not care...h-here I am, about to die in the dark where-"_

She coughed. There was the chirping sound ofGreasels on the prowl in the distance, and it startled her. Wrex was now watching, looking over Jensen's shoulder.

_"I don't have much time..." she whimpered. "Too...weak to...climb..." she was laughing weakly, and bitterly. "...Inside this Omni-tool you'll find proof of Saren's crimes, and...and I-I hope that you don't delete it. I hope that you speak for the fallen. I hope that you prove some small thing, a small, tiny, but precious thing to me: that there's one other person in this whole galaxy that... that LISTENED to this, and cared, and did the right thing when it was so much easier to do nothing. If you are that person, then i want you to understand what I mean when I tell you that even if we will never meet, even if we will never laugh or cry together...I..."_

Someone shouted. She had been seen. Her sobbing image fizzled out into a cloud of static, and sounds of gunfire roared from the Omni tool's speakers, then there was some screaming – hers - and shouts of victory.

The recording did not stop there.

_"Hey, boss! We got her!" _It was the voice of a Salarian, doing his best to sound tough.

_"Hold her down,"_ ordered a human with a deep baritone.

_"We're trying!"_ shouted another, younger human. _"Bitch! You better stop that or I'm gonna fuck you bloody! You killed my Ma, bitch! You killed her! What did she ever do to you, huh? YOU LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU!"_

_"Don't break the helmet, man!"_ pleaded the Salarian over the sound of crying. _"She won't last long without it!"_

_"Lay off, Roach," _commanded the baritone_. "You're not the only one who wants to see the suit rats pay. Father Sandy was clear: bring them in live."_

There was more sound of struggling, and Baritone spoke again. _"Up the manhole. We got a ground van on the way to take us to the plaza."_

_"Father Sandy put the word out?" _asked Roach.

_"Yeah, it's gonna be quite a party: we got three more rats like her chained up for all to watch. Today we're all getting some justice."_

Some cheers, the sound of a manhole opening, the clatter of the Omni Tool's mic banging against the hard ceramic floor, and then nothing else came out of the speakers.

Adam, Wrex and Garrus stood there, silently processing what had just happened. It was Wrex who broke the silence. "Well, so much for the full bounty. At least we got your proof."

Adam rose, making a copy of the data on his Omni-Tool. He threw the Quarian's Omni-Tool at the Krogan, who caught it with a smile. Data secured, Quarian's as good as dead. Shame about that last part, but the job's done. Time to go home and get paid. But Jensen wasn't thinking about walking away. Wrex's eyes widened when the human cop started climbing the ladder. "Hey! There's nothing but trouble up there, we can safely exit somewhere else."

Jensen threw a dirty look at the merc as he kept climbing.

"Ha, I know that look in your eye! I've seen it a thousand times before: Some damsel's in distress and some dumb young turk gets all heroic and stupid and thinks he's a one man army! You've seen her suit! She's infected, and not long for the Void!"

Adam opened the manhole. His face was bathed with cool, fresh air, and noise rushed inside the sewers. The noise was the clamor of an enraged people, with gunfire and cheering mixed in for good measure. Jensen rose up into the world above.

"You hear that? There's thousands of them up there! If disease hasn't finished her you can bet they're going to hang her soon or worse. Cut your losses. Walk. away. You've got Saren by the balls!"

Garrus followed Jensen up.

"You know what?" said Wrex with a bitter chuckle as he holstered his gun. "I forgot that I didn't give a damn about either of you. Go on and _die_, idiots." He turned ring-ward, away from the insanity, and walked away. It was the smart thing to do: even Krogan were no match for an enraged, rioting mob. And while Wrex was no ordinary Krogan, he hadn't survived all these centuries by taking moronic risks for a few million credits. It simply wasn't worth it. Let young fools be young fools.

He walked on, ever ring-ward. But try as he might, he could not stop himself from looking back.

**~[h+}~**

"We got a plan?" asked Garrus as he checked his Mongoose pistol while following a striding Jensen.

"Yeah." answered Jensen as he handed a bundle of leather with Jensen's Omni-tool on top of it. "You get back to the car and you hover around the plaza and you wait for me to call on you. If you don't get the call, then you drive away full speed and get the evidence to someone who can use it. Who WILL use it. Give me a hypo Panacea: She'll need it ASAP."

Garrus holstered his gun, withdrew a Panacea Dextro hypos from his pack and traded it for the bundle.

"Jensen, you don't have to do this alone. I started this, let me be there to finish-"

"No arguing." said Jensen has he checked his newly acquired Cicada machine pistol's ammo block. "It's five minutes as the crow flies on foot towards the plaza, and with all the congestion on the ground that van's going to need half an hour at least to get there. I can get there before they do - maybe even intercept them. If not...public executions take time to set up."

Garrus checked the map on Jensen's Omni Tool. It was indeed five minutes on foot to the plaza. Five minutes - for a man with mechanical legs and rooftop parkour skills. The Spinner, meanwhile, was twenty minutes away - for a wounded Turian running on meds - in the other direction, away from the plaza. Garrus sighed. He'd only slow Jensen down.

As Adam started climbing a nearby low-rise, intending to use the Thieves' highway - the rooftops - to avoid the crowds and save time, Garrus couldn't help blaming himself for the whole situation. He recalled that question in the elevator, almost half a day ago.

_"…I'm still in. You need me to tag along?"_

_I should have said yes._ _Spirits, I should have said yes. We might have avoided all this. _He started his sprint towards the Spinner, pushing - or punishing - his legs harder than ever.

**~[h+}~**

Veetor'Nara had not thought his day could have gotten any worse. He had been busy fixing plumbing for Mrs. Manley, a round dark-skinned human woman with a funny accent who kept offering delicious looking (but sadly poisonous) food for his services. Then suddenly several armed humans came barging in, screaming something about Quarians and murderers and death, and they meant to take him someplace where 'everyone would see him pay for his crimes'. Manley had been indignant at the intruders, and promptly came to Veetor's defense with her cane. Veetor had always liked Mrs. Manley. She always had a nice meal ready for him whenever he visited, even though he couldn't eat it and she didn't seem to understand the biological barriers that prevented him from enjoying it. She had cared enough to try and keep him fed, and he suspected that the reason her kitchen sink always 'broke' was because she liked his company. In many ways, Veetor thought of Manley as the fussy grandmother he never had.

When the angry ones shot her in the belly and left her for dead, Veetor's heart broke.

He had been thrust into the back of a Van along with a child. And, just as Veetor thought things couldn't get any worse, someone unceremoniously threw inside the van a barely conscious Quarian woman soon after. She was wounded and feverish, and there was a bloody tear on her suit's left leg, as if a varren had bitten through it. Veetor's felt terror wash over his mind at the implications of this: the mouths of animals were the worst kind of breeding ground for all kinds of horrible germs, and a Quarian getting bit by a beast is almost a death sentence. She'd have an hour, maybe minutes to live if he did not do something.

He had frisked her, hoping to find an Omni-Tool, but the men had apparently confiscated it. Fortunately, they had not taken her small emergency kit, and he was able to seal the breach in her suit and give her a dose of antibiotic. The whole time he was doing this, some little demon in the back of his mind reminded him that he had never been this close to such a beautiful girl let alone touched one. Veetor kept his mind busy, thinking about complex Virtual Intelligence algorithms while his practiced hands made quick work of the woman's suit damage.

She was lucid now, but she had maybe hours to live.

Tali was lying on her back, and she could feel three fingered hands working on her left leg, below the knee. She strained her eyes in the dark, trying to take in her situation. She was in the back a moving vehicle, medium size...a van, with all its rear seating removed. Judging by the occasional shaking and swaying, and the muffled din of an electric motor, it was a four-wheeled ground car. There was some occasional banging on the hull, and a clamor from outside resonated within the van. Besides Tali herself, there were two other passengers here with her. Sitting in a corner was a small Quarian child barely old enough to be out of its bubble yet wearing a rather loose fitting all-white environment suit. It was holding an odd wooden doll: it looked like a bottle, and it had a face and dress painted on it. Besides the child, there was another Quarian: a man in a tarnished white suit and red cloth, frantically trying to repair Tali's ruined suit.

"...W-who are you?" she asked him.

"Hm? Oh. Oh! I'm Veetor'Nara vas Qwib Qwib." His hands retreated from Tali's leg, their work done. "You'll be alright, I've repaired your suit and given you some medicine. You'll...you'll be fine."

Tali turned her gaze on the child.

"That's Fyodor."

She expected more names, but did not get any. "...Just Fyodor?" As she pronounced it, she realized it wasn't a Quarian name.

Veetor nodded. "No ship, no family. He doesn't remember his parents, but I suspect they were Exiles. I don't know what happened to them."

"...You've been taking care of him?"

"Ah, no..." answered Veetor as he shook his head, embarrassed. "Believe it or not, one of the Omar - an old woman - had been taking care of him when I first met him."

Tali looked around, but saw no Omar in the van with them. "Where is she?"

Fyodor looked at her, then resumed playing with his doll.

"...I think they..." Veetor began to stammer. "I mean, if there's anyone the humans hate more than a Quarian, i-it's an Omar and..."

_They had killed her, _Tali realized. _And he had no doubt seen it happen. O Ancestors! Preserve his soul..._

She decided to change the subject. "We're moving...where are they taking us?"

"They're taking us to the Plaza."

"What for?" _Why haven't they killed us yet, _she left unsaid.

Veetor was quiet.

"Veetor?" Tali prodded.

"...They're going to execute us: someone detonated a toxic gas bomb near the bazaar, and they think a Quarian is responsible. They'll beat us, hang us, then burn our corpses, and if we're lucky," Veetor gulped. "...They'll do it in that order. I've seen them do these things to an Omar that had allegedly sold tainted medicine to some children. Father Sandy had the crowd so worked up they were cheering when the fire started."

"Father Sandy?"

"Some priest from some human church called The Order. He set up a mission in these slums a year ago. When he found out about the local Omar population, he started lacing hate in his sermons, directed at the dozen or so Omar that live here as well the six or so Quarians that are stuck here, including me."

"Just the Omar and Quarians?" That had seemed odd to Tali. Human racists hated anything non-human with equal measure. "Why?"

Veetor shrugged. "I have no idea."

There was gunfire and more cheers. Tali looked at Fyodor again. "Are they...are they going to kill him too?"

"I don't know, I mean, they _say_ this payback for the gassing, but...This isn't about justice. It's about blood. They're hungry for it, and just one Quarian won't do."

"No...I can't let this happen!" Tali struggled to rise. She had abandoned all hope for herself, but she wasn't going to let these people die because of her, not while she could still move...

"Lay still! Conserve your strength."

"Conserve it for what? To be butchered for a laugh? No, I-I won't let them-"

"There's nothing we can do! We don't have any tools! The driver's compartment is locked, the doors are locked, and even if we get out of this van there's a mob outside! I'm sorry, but all we _can_ do is – all we can do is wait for the inevitable."

Tali was about to make another protest, but then an explosion shook the van.

**~[h+}~**

Tyrone sat in the passenger's seat in the driver's compartment of the van, letting Roach (a pimply human barely out of his teens) drive. He was leaning back comfortably, while Roach was hunched over the analog wheel.

"We should have wasted 'em." Roach said bitterly, having stewed in his own hatred for a while now. "We should just waste all of them."

Tyrone wanted to groan. Not this shit again. "You know what Father Sandy commanded us to do."

Roach gave Tyrone a half-hearted laugh, as if he finally realized the punchline of a bad joke. "I meant...We should just kill all of them. Like Father Sandy says! Every single one of these freaks. Wouldn't that be great?"

"Just drive."

Tyrone took a gander beyond the windshield: There were was another van in front of them, wading through a sea of angry people that was being parted by the threat of a ton of moving metal and the gunfire of a dozen escorts on foot. Fucking traffic. It's times like these he wished he could afford an aircar permit.

He should have been able to afford one, dammit.

In another life, Tyrone had been an Alliance Soldier, with a capitals 'S'. None of that biotic or technology crap: He was all about the guns and the soaking in the hits. But then he got himself involved in contraband and he was dishonorably discharged. He got his back-pay, of course, but a few bad business decisions landed him in the Zakera Ghetto, stuck with morons like Roach and a bunch of filthy aliens.

"You, you know what your problem is, Tyrone? You don't care. You don't care about what Father Sandy says. I feel sorry for you, man. I don't even know why you're here."

_At least I won't be first in line to drink his goddamned punch. No, I don't care about Luminon Sandoval's sermons. I don't really care about the apocalyptic second coming of cyborgs, or gods, or karma, or any of that shit. I care about getting paid, and If you only knew, Roach. If you only knew how deep 'Father Sandy's' pockets _really_ are, you'd understand why I 'm here, why I do what Sandy tells me, why I attend his Shard on Sundays, why I teach his goons how to hold a gun right, and why I don't cook sycophants like you for looking at me like you're doing right now, Roach._

Oh course, Tyrone didn't voice any of his thoughts. "Just drive."

"They deserve it." Roach kept muttering to himself. "They killed my Ma."

_Your Ma was a cross-dressing man-whore who died years ago with a needle in his arm filled with the zyme you cooked wrong you delusional little shi-_

Time stopped for Tyrone as he saw the smoking trail of a super-velocity round that tore open Roach's skull.

**~[h+}~**

When Otrera had gotten the word, she had a hard time believing it. All four of Saren's freaks and their goons were KIA. She had seen them in action, was perfectly aware of what they were capable of, and doubted that a little Quarian girl had killed all of them.

Then again, explosives had a way of leveling the playing field like that.

The asset that kept track of the Quarian reported that she was being pursued by a bunch of humans, captured, and was being slowly transported by a ground van. Otrera's commando of eight Asari Huntresses, the Furies, had been on standby to provide Saren's men with support should the need arise. With them dead, the Furies were now in charge of the op. Benezia had been clear: capture Quarian, secure intel, then eliminate the girl. And with their 'asset' relaying the target's current location and intended destination, it wasn't hard to clear some buildings of squatters and set up a cross-fire ambush. Otrera herself was perched on a rooftop overlooking a wide street, large enough for ground car traffic. She was eyeing it down the 4x sight of her DMR, a Toxotes mk IV, and after a little waiting, finally caught sight of her quarry.

The two vans came down the busy street, parting a clamoring crowd of humans, turians and salarians dressed in castoffs and dirty rags. The two ground vehicles were being escorted by at least twenty armed thugs, some of them sitting on the car's roofs and shooting their guns up.

"_Did the asset specify which van the target is in?_" asked Lampedo, the commando's sniper.

"It said the van was painted gray," answered Otrera.

"_They're _both_ gray._"

"Then we shoot both drivers. You take the one in the back. Anaea, the one in front has a bigger target. You take that one."

"_Got it,_" came Anea's reply. She wasn't as good as Lampedo, but she was close enough for this shot.

"On my mark...Three...Two...One...mark!"

Two heads exploded in unison, and the two vans stopped. To their credit, the twenty thugs didn't panic and tried to find cover. A large, dark-skinned human came out of the rear van, and started shouting orders. Otrera quickly identified him as the leader to the rest of the commando.

"Lampedo, can you take him out?"

"_No, he made me and he's keeping the van between me and him. I need to reposition._"

"_Cyme here, I spot three humans making their way to Lampedo by cutting through the buildings._"

"Intercept them. Gryne, fire your GEP above the vans. Let's see how these thugs deal with an airburst..."

**~[h+}~**

_Boom._

Adam was starting to hate explosions. He was parkouring the rooftops when he heard the distinct sound of an exploding rocket in the distance. It was different from the exploding bottles of homemade explosives the hoods around here were fond of. This was the sound of military gear, and the only group he could think of with access to that kind of kit were Saren's men. Then again, it could just be two gangs having it out, and one of them got their hands on a rocket launcher...

Either way, it came from one of the roads wide enough for ground car traffic, and if Zorah's van wasn't under attack, it soon would be, and he had to act.

**~[h+}~**

It was over in under 3 minutes. The thugs had been trained to be brave in the face of bullets, but explosions weren't exactly common in the Slums. Panic amongst their ranks and the crowd had thrown their measly attempt at resistance into disarray, and the Furies could pick them off at their leisure. There was nothing left on the street but corpses, two vans full of scared Quarians, and a commando of Asari Huntresses.

Otrera stood over the corpse of the large, dark-skinned human. He had been tougher than the rest, and she silently muttered a prayer for this fine warrior. He deserved a better fight, and better warriors to fight at his side, but alas...

Still, she would not be sorry for winning.

Her seven battle sisters, clad in their full-body combat leathers and distinct gilded white masks, had rounded up the captive Quarians. There were six of them, huddled together on their knees: three women, two men, and one child. They were scared, knowing full well that their fates were no longer theirs to decide. They would be decided by these eight masked shadows in the shape of women.

Otrera addressed them, her mask's speakers warping her voice. "Which one amongst you is named Tali'Zorah nar Rayya?"

The Quarians muttered amongst themselves: none of them went by that name, but 'Zorah' was apparently a name of significance amongst themselves. A Quarian woman in a gray suit and lime green cloth pointed another girl: she was obviously sick, and could barely stay upright, even on her knees.

"That one! She's wearing Zorah Indigo! It's got to be her!"

Otrera approached the indigo-clad Quarian and addressed her. "Are you the one we're looking for?"

She was struggling to breathe. "...Yes."

"Do you know what we want from you?"

"...You want the evidence of your-" she was sucking in air. "-of your master's crimes."

"Good...maybe you'll be even more cooperative and tell me where you've hidden it."

"...No."

Otrera sighed. "Of course not." She pulled out her small shotgun and shot the lime-green Quarian woman in the face. "How about now?"

"I...I can't..."

"Of course you can. You just need proper motivation..." She aimed her shotgun at another Quarian. The child.

"Wait!" shouted one of the males. He was wearing a tarnished white suit wrapped in red cloth. The Quarian child was hugging him tightly. "She's too sick to tell you anything! Her suit's been breached! She's doesn't have much time!"

"Otrera," said Gryne. She was a giant of a woman, the commando's heavy weapons specialist. "If she dies here and now we will have failed in our task, and Benezia will be the one to pay. We need to have her treated."

"And we can't take _them_ with us for leverage." said Lampedo. "Barely enough room in our two cars for us let alone _four_ suit-rats."

They were right, of course. Gryne and Lampedo had been with her the longest, and she always listened to their counsel, but her instincts told her she needed to finish this job quickly. Taking care of a dying Quarian and extracting the location of the package was going to take hours, maybe days of torture. They could just kill her now, but Saren wouldn't like the idea of incriminating evidence out there. It would drive him _insane_: and he'd let out his rage on Lady Benezia first, then the Furies, and might even burn the whole Ward just to make sure the evidence never came to light.

She decided to be cautious. "How long does she have?" she asked the red Quarian.

"I-I don't know! I did my best, but-

Otrera pointed her shotgun at him.

"-an hour! An hour, at best!"

"Good enough." Otrera holstered her shotgun. "Gryne, take the girl and come with me. Lampedo, you're coming too: extracting the target to our safehouse. The rest of you, clean this up."

**~[h+}~**

Jensen arrived at the scene, dropping stealthily from the rooftops behind a group of five women in black leather suits wearing gilded venetian masks. They were armed with machine pistols, shotguns, and assault rifles, and carried themselves like professionals. They were facing a group of four Quarians, two men, one woman, and a child. There was a corpse nearby, clad in green. To his relief, none of them wore indigo. Behind them was an open van – no doubt the one Baritone had spoken of in the recording. But where was Tali'Zorah?

Adam strained his ear, listening to the leather-clad women talk to each other.

"I'm just saying, fire's a lot more fun," said one, her high-pitched voice scrambled by the speakers on her mask.

"I dunno," said another. "The screaming might give me nightmares. How about Warping them?"

Warping. Biotics. Jensen turned on his Smart Vision, and he saw bright dots within every masked woman. Element zero nodes. They were _all_ Biotics.

"You want to hear screams? I hear getting Warped is worse than being set on fire. No, I say we just shoot them."

_They're going to execute them,_ Adam realized. If these women had taken Zorah somewhere, then they were probably covering their tracks. He had to act.

He activated his cloak, engaged the noise cancelers in his legs and moved out of cover. He'd have to be quick about this.

"Well that's boring – Well, unless we let them run for a-" said one of the women in black before Adam punched her in the back of the neck.

"What the-" said another at the sight of her friend going slack like a rag doll. She barely had time bring her gun up before Adam struck her in the throat with a knifehand strike, grabbed her, and shoulder-threw her overhead, hard, at the one that had been considering using incendiaries.

"Cloaker!" shouted one of two remaining women. She flared up, readying a wide area Nova blast that would disable and reveal their attacker, but Adam was already on to her: He kicked her in the knee (causing her leg to bend the wrong way), grabbed her by the shoulders, and brought her face down on his knee. She went limp, but the energies she had been holding back surged out, and Jensen was momentarily bathed in biotic energies that outlined his form.

The last remaining masked killer capitalized on that and struck at Adam with a biotically-charged fist. It barely grazed his face, but it was enough to stun him for a moment, causing his cloak to disengage. She followed it up with an elbow strike to his ribs, and quickly chained that with another attempt at pulping his skull with a charged fist. Adam grabbed her by the wrist with his right hand, pulled her in, then elbow struck her with his left arm in the back of her neck, causing her Biotic Amp to fizzle out. She lost control of the energies laced within her hand, and they tore it apart. She barely had time to scream before the darkness took her.

"Oh Keelah..." said one of the Quarians. He was clothed in red, and hugging a child protectively. "You...you killed them all in, in _seconds..."_

Adam wanted to say they were just barely alive, but he was still focused on his task, "Adam Jensen, C-Sec! Was there a-"

"A Quarian girl in indigo?" He answered quickly.

"Yes! Yes, was she here?"

"You just missed her – Their leader and two others took them down that alleyway! You have to hurry!"

"All of you! Take their weapons and find a place to hide until the riot blows over!" He didn't wait for them to acknowledge, and ran as fast as he could down the alleyway.

**~[h+}~**

They had just finished securing the Quarian into one of the two aircars when Otrera's Tactical HUD reported Cyme condition to be critical. Then in turn Anaea's name blinked red as well. Then Areto, then Iphito, and then, after ten seconds, Myrleia. They were all incapacitated and slowly dying.

How? That had been the only word on Otrera's mind. She had trained her Furies so well. Nothing short of a trio of Justicars could have bested them!

"Spectres," said Gryne, as if answering her leader's thoughts. "It has to be."

"Saren assured us the Spectres wouldn't be a problem!" shouted Lampedo, disbelieving.

_It doesn't matter who, _thoughtOtrera. "Get in the car."

"Should we not save our sisters?"

"The mission comes first. If the Specters are after us, then we can't afford to risk a confrontation. We need to leave, right now!"

They were all in one of the aircars in less than a second, and took off the next. As they left the ground, Otrera thought she heard a loud 'thunk' sound, something banging on the hull, but decided it was probably just her nerves.

**~[h+}~**

Eight minutes. That's how fast he got to the Spinner. He also had to scare off some hooligans trying to vandalize the old aircar. Thank the spirits SydMotors made their cars sturdy.

He started up the ignition sequence, and activated his headset.

"Jen – Whew!" Garrus took a few deep breaths. He had really pushed himself hard. "Jensen, I've got the car ready."

"_There's been a slight change of plans. Lock on to my signal."_

"I've got you on your Omni...Jensen? Did you jack a car without telling me?"

"_No?_"

"Then why are you in the air moving at eighty kilometers per hour?"

"..._Because I'm hanging on to the aircar carrying Zorah, and it's flying at eighty kilometers per hour?"_

"...How in the hells did you-"

"_Just get here. I'll try to slow them down."_

**~[h+}~**

Adam had to admit, jumping cloaked onto a rising heavy aircar and hanging from its rear bumper wasn't exactly the smartest thing he ever did. He hadn't even been sure it was the right car to hang on to, but his Smart Vision vindicated his impulse: Four contacts, three biotics and one sick Quarian. Jackpot.

Adam had hoped that he could just keep on monitoring the situation inside the large vehicle until his backup arrived, but his Augmented Reality HUD alerted him that the Quarian's heartbeat was getting slower. She would need medicine, and soon. Worse still, the car was getting a little too close to the edge Zakera's 'atmosphere'. Adam suspected Saren's women would be taking a VR inter-ward highway, exposing him to empty space. Jensen could hold his breath for a very, very long time, but the lack of atmospheric pressure would cause his blood to boil. He didn't have an aug for that.

_Note to self, requisition a full hard-suit._

Thinking fast, Jensen singled out one of the car's four 'wheels', a mass effect stabilizer ring. His own Spinner needed two of them to maintain its altitude, and he hoped this car would be no different. He activated his right arm sword, and stabbed at it.

**~[h+}~**

Lampedo had paid quite a bit of cash for two older model CG-4c Sky Rovers, but their toughness and reliability made them worth the price. She was surprised, then, when the car's VI reported that one of its stabilizers suddenly went missing. So much for the warranty.

"What happened?" asked Otrera. The constant swaying, stalling and rising was starting to get to her.

"One of the stabilizers is..._gone_. The other three are straining to keep the vehicle aloft...I need to get us down to one of the physical roads."

"Do it. Take the highway."

**~[h+}~**

"_They're coming down on the highway." _Jensen said over the wireless. "Sky Rover, beige. You see it?"

"I see it," replied Garrus. There was indeed a CG-4c off in the distance, some two hundred meters away and closing. Sparks were flying off one of its stabilizers, and it was about to land on Zakera's highway, a floating bridge that hovered one hundred and fifty meters above the ward's ground. It ran the whole length of Zakera, providing the poorer population that couldn't afford aircars an expressway to everywhere else on this arm of the Citadel.

"And if I squint, I can see you too. How's it hanging?"

"_Don't be a smart-ass."_

* * *

_Garrus was just about to quip back, but then he and the Spinner were somewhere else entirely, about to crash into another turian... which Adam promptly saved by teleporting him away, of all things. Garrus checked the rear view screen, making doubly sure he hadn't killed someone. The sight was otherworldly: he was surrounded by space filled with alien machinery that stretched out into infinity. Reality was shattered glass..._

_His eyes widened when he realized that the turian he had nearly run over... was himself._

* * *

"What in the seven hells..." muttered Garrus. He was back to the Citadel, the vision of what was to come fading away rapidly.

_"What's going on?"_ asked Adam, worried.

"Nothing, nothing!" _Spirits_, Garrus prayed, _don't let me go crazy like Mom did_. He centered himself, focusing on the chase. "How do you want to do this?" The road wasn't terribly congested, but there were other vehicles on it. Garrus knowing Jensen, he'd want to keep casualties to a minimum, if at all.

"_...Lights on, ping them. Driving with a busted tail light is something you can pull them over for."_

"I don't see-"

Jensen punched one of the tail lights out. He then cloaked before vaulting over the car's trunk as it landed, hovering just three inches above the metal road.

"Ah, there it is." Garrus switched on the Spinner's police holograms and sirens, and pinged the Sky Rover's VI.

**~[h+}~**

"There's a C-Sec car pinging us." said Lampedo.

There was no way Otrera could explain their weapons and captive. Speeding away would bring heat down on them. Blowing up the patrol car would only bring a C-Sec response to the wreck.

"Gryne. Take care of it. Lampedo, slow down."

Gryne, who was sitting in the backseat along with the Quarian, deployed the mini-GEP she strapped on her back and opened one of the rear door windows.

**~[h+}~**

"They're slowing down, Jensen."

"_Huh, that was eas- ah, shit!"_

"What?"

"_GEP GUN! EVADE!"_

A large leather-clad woman was indeed leaning out of the Sky Rover's windows and aiming a small, boxy, silver-blue missile launcher at Garrus. His small eyes widened at the sight and he hit the brakes, immediately putting distance between the Spinner and the Rover.

The GEP-wielding masked woman fired the weapon, and Garrus banked to the right. The missile missed, but it was coming about. Damned Wasp missiles!

"Jensen! You think you might..."

Adam pulled out the Cicada machine pistol from his holster and fired at the missile. A stream of metal shards tore the munition apart, and it exploded not five meters away from the Spinner's tail.

"_I think I just did._"

Garrus breathed a sigh of relief, that had been too close. He drew his Mongoose pistol and opened his window.

_Two can play that game._

**~[h+}~**

"There's someone on-" Gryne had barely uttered the words when a phasic round the shape of a grain of rice tore through her mask, right above the eye, then lodged itself inside her brain. She dropped her weapon outside, and she hung lifelessly from the car window.

And then there were two: Lampedo driving, and Otrera on the forward passenger's seat. If there was any doubt they were dealing with Spectres, they knew it now: no one else could have made that shot from a flying vehicle.

"If it's a dogfight he wants, let's give him one...take us into the air, evasive maneuvers!" Otrera ordered.

Lampedo protested. "If we do that, C-Sec will be on to us in minutes!"

"I DON'T CARE!" Otrera shouted as she withdrew her shotgun.

As the Sky Rover rose into the air as far as it could, a glowing figure appeared out of nowhere on the left hand side of the car, hanging on the driver's door. It was a pale human with dark brown hair and, Otrera realized, he had mechanical arms, one of which was drawn back, ready to punch the car door's reinforced glass. It strained under the pressure of the first blow, cracked under the second, and then exploded from the third.. Lampedo was glad her full mask protected her face from the shards, but she soon found the cold edge of a blade at her throat.

"Land this car RIGHT NOW." demanded the human. A Fury, however, did not answer to threats, and she struck with a biotically charged hand, swatting the blade away. She shifted her weight on the pedals, and rolled the Sky Rover clockwise in an attempt to throw off the mechanical human, but his fake hands held fast, bending the car door's metal under their grip

From the inside of the car's own gravity field, the constant spin did not affect the occupants, and Otrera could easily level her shotgun at the human's face. She took too long savoring the shot, however, as a pair of three fingered hands pushed at her arm. Startled, Otrera fired her shotgun right into the car's dash panel. The hyper velocity pellets tore through the dash's plastic, then the Sky Rover's VI core and finally made their home into the car's engine block. Blasted suit rat had picked that very moment to be brave, and she had doomed them all!

"You little **cunt!**" she cursed the Quarian as she struck her in the face, and her helmet's visor finally shattered after all the abuse that it had suffered.

She would no doubt die in minutes now, but Otrera was beyond caring about Saren Arterius' wrath at this moment. Of course, it wasn't his wrath that she should have been worried about now. That human had seen her strike the Quarian, and she had made Detective Sergeant Adam Jensen very, _very_ _mad._

**~[h+}~**

The car stopped spinning, and Jensen positioned himself to stab at the locking mechanism. Once the lock was ruined, he pulled the car door with all his might, tearing it from its hinges and sending it tumbling down to the city below.

He grabbed the driver by the throat, and forced her out of her seat to follow the piece of debris. She might have screamed and begged for her life, Adam wasn't sure, and he did not care.

The way open, he entered the car, where the last masked woman was readying her shotgun again. Adam, quick as a snake, lashed out and grabbed the weapon by the barrel and twisted it, causing it to backfire into the huntress' face. Her mask shattered, revealing the pale blue skin of an Asari. Her body flared, readying a biotic attack, but Jensen did not give her time to finish it. He punched her in the skull, again and again, until she stopped moving. He punched again, just to make sure, and the car door she was leaning against gave way. Her limp body fell down, joining the other killer.

"_Jensen? Jensen! What's going on in there? The car's starting to spin out of control!" _Vakarian's voice came through loud on Adam's headset.

"...The asari are down. I'm taking control of the...Aw, hell."

"_What?_"

"The haptics on this thing are glitched-out! The VI core is scrap!"

"_It's worst than you think!_"

"Oh, do tell."

"_Sensor's picking up a lot of heat from the Rover's engine block! The power cell is going to blow!"_

Adam quickly forced the passenger's seat forward, giving him access to the backseats. The Quarian was breathing in poison with every breath, but she was alive if barely conscious. He grabbed her by the shoulders.

**~[h+}~**

Garrus was flying as close as he possibly could to the out-of-control, overheating Sky Rover. Its course was getting more and more unsteady, and flying too close to it would result in a mid-air collision. If this were a search and rescue craft, saving Jensen would have been as simple as switching on a tractor beam. Sadly this was a refurbished old police cruiser Jensen had saved from the scrap heap.

Time slowed down for Garrus as Adam leaped out of the Sky Rover, holding Tali'Zorah tightly against him. By the time Garrus had processed what had happened, Jensen and the Quarian were hundreds of meters away behind him and falling down, headed for the streets below the highway.

"Titans of Palaven save us!" He shouted as he made a rapid U-turn. There was no way he'd get to them before they hit the ground, but by the spirits he would try.

**~[h+}~**

Tali felt weightless, that much she understood through the fog in her mind. She opened her eyes, and then she understood that she was falling to her death. It didn't scare her as much as it should. In fact, she was quite...at peace with the idea.

She felt embraced. This wasn't like being held by Aunt Shala. this... there was strength in it, this was more how she had imagined her father would embrace her, if he had...if only he had not been so driven, so distant, so _cold_.

She was bathed in a golden light, and she could feel every nerve on her skin tingle. Time seemed to slow down, and the buildings didn't stream past her so quickly. Had she died? Was this what lay beyond the fade? An eternal feeling of weightlessness in a shining light?

_Savor the light,_ she told herself. _Savor the flight_, she insisted. _Savor this embrace. Everything will be alright._

_Maybe I'll finally see my mother, here, in this place._

_It's...it's so hard breathe..._

**~[h+}~**

Adam crashed on his back, crushing the thin metal roof of a car. He had attempted to put himself between the ground and Tali'Zorah, knowing that the reduced effectiveness of his Icarus Landing System in an artificial gravity environment would not be enough to save her from severe injury. He wasn't worried about himself: he could take it. He wasn't certain about her, considering her critical state, and he refused to take any chances.

He held back a scream of pain, grinding his teeth: the strain of a sudden stop had cracked his ribs. His spine would be alright, having been reinforced to handle the stresses of augmented limbs. A crowd was forming around the scene, myriad faces with myriad voices shouting distress and disbelief. Someone begged someone else to call an ambulance, over the familiar sound of a Spinner coming in for a landing.

"Jensen!" Garrus shouted. He had landed nearby, and rushed towards his partner. "Oh, spirits..."

"Argh!...the Quarian! Is she okay?"

Garrus lifted the girl's limp body off Jensen and set her on the ground. Jensen got up, his Sentinel Health System already releasing painkillers to deal with the pain as micromachines repaired his ribs. He knelt by her side as Garrus scanned her with Jensen's Omni-Tool.

"...She's alive, but she's got a few bruises, Greasel saliva's in her system, and she's breathing in allergens" Garrus set the Omni-Tool's to flash-forge a omni-gel applicator. "I'll repair her helmet - Give her a dose of Panacea!"

Jensen pulled out a hypo from his utility belt and jabbed it in the Quarian's arm. It had a conveniently designated applicator port on it. Her eyes fluttered, reacting to the sensation of a warm liquid gently breaching her skin and making its way to her veins. Breathing became easier for her, if only slightly.

**~[h+}~**

Tali's eyes caught the face of her saviour. He was human, pale, and dark brown hair covered his head and face. His eyes were hidden by dark gold mirrors and, at the moment, Tali wished dearly she could see his eyes. She did not know why.

_Hold on, _he told her. His voice was deep and raspy, so close and yet so far away, and she wanted to listen to it again.

It was getting darker.

_You're going to be alright._

She couldn't focus her eyes, and her eyelids were so heavy...

_Hey..._

Everything was a blur.

_Stay with me..._

And then everything went black.

**~[h+]~**

Tali's eyes flickered open, and she saw nothing but blue steel walls. She felt nude, with needles puncturing her arms, a sheet covering her skin, and a plastic tube down her airway, providing her tattered lungs with air. She was surrounded by glass, in an enclosed space with clean, disinfected air. She panicked: she couldn't move her arms and legs. Had she been captured? This didn't look like a hospital!

She turned her head to the right, hoping to gain insight into her situation. Beyond the glass she could make out the form of a human in a long blue coat, leaning back against a chair, his arms folded over his chest, which rose and fell in slow intervals. His eyes were shut. She recognized him, and she calmed herself.

Tali went back to sleep, safe in the knowledge that no harm would come to her.

**~[h+]~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Tali is going to be FINE. I was going to leave her fate more ambiguous, but I was worried fans would jump to the wrong conclusion and spam my message box with protests and promises of bodily harm.
> 
> Did I have you sweating over Tali's fate? Good. I borrowed a move from Joss Whedon: this is where killing Shepard in such a sudden and unexpected manner starts to pay off, restoring dramatic tension to a story we've all read and played over and over again. If I'm willing to kill Goddamned Shepard of all people right at the beginning, who else am I willing to kill? I'd never kill Tali or Garrus, of course (I loves them so vewy vewy much). But the rest of the cast, including Jensen, are fair game now.
> 
> To be honest I'm not a hundred percent happy with how this chapter turned out, as I had several different scenarios in my head for the rescue. "Car chase" wasn't on the top of my list, but oh well.
> 
> So, Wrex walking away. Before you ask, no, I didn't make him a coward. He's just not young anymore, and he knows it. His best years are behind him. I'll write something dealing with that, of course.
> 
> Tali's "last words." are based on Valerie's letter from V For Vendeta. I cut out the last part, as I thought it wasn't quite time for it yet. Don't worry, Tali will have a chance to finish that sentence someday ;)


	9. Know the face of your enemy

The door irised open, and Benezia, accompanied by two Asari Huntresses, floated through it, her pinstriped dress and the pearls mounted on her headdress trailing behind her. She was moving through the conduits that irrigated the _Sovereign's _massive bulk. The cylindrical halls were dark, their metallic blue barely illuminated by a blue gloom, the source of which Benezia had never managed to identify. Red lights veined the conduits, slowly streaking through curved circuitry. Geth spider drones skittered on the walls.

There was no gravity to speak of. Geth apparently had little use for it, and less than ten percent of the massive vessel had artificial gravity for the comfort of Benezia's Huntresses, Wreav's Berserkers, and Saren's own chemically-corrupted clone troopers. Everywhere else, one had to float towards her intended destination. Thankfully, Benezia's own quarters were not far from the Core, the central chamber from which Saren controlled the mighty, three kilometer-long warship by the power of his will alone. Another iris widened, and Benezia found herself inside the very nerve center of the _Sovereign._

"Stay outside," she told her escorts, and they complied. The door to the Core irised shut, leaving her alone with Saren.

The Turian Spectre, Saren Arterius, sat in a floating chair with his back to the entrance. He was meditating on a giant sphere of black glass embedded on the roof of the spherical room. Every detail inside Core, every seam on the dark metallic walls, every vein of energy, every curve, _everything_ led the eye towards that sphere. A red and orange phantom in the warped shape of a heart pulsated slowly inside the nearly opaque orb and, at times, Benezia could swear she could make out the image of a million faces contorted in anguish within the apex of a pulse.

A vision of hell.

She approached the seat, a hollowed ovoid carved out of a black marble that was so well polished she could make out her reflection on it. She cleared her throat, getting Saren's attention: "Shepard has been killed."

"Oh?" responded Saren. He snorted, then laughed: "Well, that's one loose end I no longer have have to deal with. What of the Quarian?"

Benezia hesitated, and Saren picked up on that quickly. He stopped meditating on the sphere. "Benezia?"

"Our assets on the Citadel, save for the Geth spy drones, have been...neutralized. The quarian has escaped us, and the evidence will soon make its way to the Council." She relayed the news with a neutral, even tone, as if reading the weather report. She betrayed neither worry nor fear.

Saren, however, saw no need for that kind of self-control. He seethed, rose from his chair, roared in fury, and backhanded the floating piece of furniture with his artificial arm, knocking it away.

"HOW? FOUR of my Myrmidons and EIGHT of your Huntresses tasked in killing one – ONE! - little quarian girl and they _FAIL_?" He took two strides towards Benezia, menacingly. "Who killed them? How?"

Unfazed by Saren's sudden fury, Benezia summoned her Omni-Tool's haptic interface. Using her Level Two access to the Sovereign's database and the Core's own holographic emitters, she commanded a several flat holograms to appear.

Most of them were videos taken by the Geth spy drones, displaying the gruesome fates of his Myrmidons and her Huntresses. Explosives had claimed the lives of two clones soldiers, then the human in a blue longcoat had forced another clone into a hand-to-hand confrontation, with a krogan Battlemaster cutting it short. The last of the clones met his end from the mouth of a shotgun, point blank, right in the face, from the quarian.

What happened to the Furies, though, that had surprised Saren most of all. After they had been alerted by the Geth drones, the eight Huntresses had managed to secure the quarian, and it looked like the mission had been a success. Then, Otrera and the two senior Furies left the five younger members of the group to dispose of a few quarian witnesses, and the finely trained warriors started falling. One became limp, a second choked and was thrown hard against one her comrades, neutralizing a third. The fourth attempted a Nova, but her leg broke and mask caved in. The energies she was holding back were released, outlining a cloaked humanoid figure. The last Fury engaged it, causing it to materialize in the form of a human wearing what Saren thought was a light hardsuit...but with khaki cargo pants worn on top. Odd.

The last Fury was taken down with an elbow strike to the back of the neck, and Saren got a better look at the human. It was the same man that had engaged the Myrmidon earlier.

"Is that all? What happened to Otrera?"

A new vid window, this time of a Sky Rover hovering on a highway being shot at by a turian driving an older SydMotors Spinner. The turian had managed hit the large Penthesilean Huntress right between the eyes. The human – him again! – decloaked on the side of the car and proceeded to try and hijack the Sky Rover. The vehicle rolled in an effort to shake him off, but it was no use. Minutes later, Lampedo and Otrera had been ejected from the vehicle, which then started spiraling out of control. The human jumped out of the vehicle, carrying the quarian in his arms.

"The video cuts out after that," said Benezia. "The drones couldn't maintain their stealth fields for much longer and had to return to their berths for repairs. We assume the human used a landing system, as he is still alive."

"That's the _how_. Now, the _who_."

Benezia obeyed, and she arranged three pairs of 2d images side by side in front of Saren, portraits and profiles on three different individuals from C-Sec's very own data archives. Two pairs were of a human and a turian dressed in C-Sec's Navy Blue and silver-trimmed uniforms. The last pair were mugshots of a scarred, red crested krogan in an orange jumpsuit. Benezia named them all:

"Detective Sergeant Adam Jensen, Detective Sergeant Garrus Vakarian, and former Chieftain Urdnot Wrex."

"I remember Wrex," stated Saren, his anger dissipating. "A Battlemaster. I hired him and dozens more mercs of his ilk for the _Caravel _job. He evaded my 'cleaners'. As for the detectives, I recall their names: They were assigned to investigate Udina's accusations, but their deadline expired."

"C-Sec has Urdnot flagged as a known Shadow Broker contractor. He was likely sent by the Broker to deal with Fist."

"...And no doubt secure the quarian and her intel for the Broker. I take it he killed Fist?"

"Not quite. The detectives attempted to apprehend him. From what I can tell, he took his own life instead."

"And yet he still managed to put the police on the quarian's trail." Saren said bitterly as he skimmed over the C-Sec files. Jensen and Vakarian were apparently partnered some 4 years ago, and their commendations, awards and medals began to increase in frequency around the same time. Of note, They both earned the Silver Star of Gallantry for bravery, the Eye of Pythia for solving a record number of cases within a year, and the Venator's Arrow for "uncommon determination in the capture of a fugitive." Vakarian still held the C-Sec record for best long-range marksmanship, while Jensen had set the record for best medium and short range marksmanship as well as hand-to-hand combat. They were both tied for advanced driving.

As for Urdnot, well, he had a rap-sheet that went as far back as the Krogan Rebellions. Two hundred and sixty-seven counts of driving under the influence, three hundred and seventy-five counts of vandalism and assault, and one count littering. Said 'litter' consisted of two pairs of testicles he had torn off a fellow krogan and unceremoniously thrown in a floating park's lake. On the more "legal" side of things, he had brought in hundreds of high-profile C-Sec sanctioned bounties dead. His best 'catch' was an Elcor mercenary by the name of 'Two Ton Tank' Thorkel.

Between these three individuals and a quarian with a love of explosives, it was little wonder that twelve elite soldiers were defeated. Saren himself had taken on worse odds.

"Shall I have them killed?" asked Benezia.

Saren wanted them dead! He wanted their mangled corpses mounted on the hull of his ship as a trophy! Reason, however, chose this moment to assert itself within Saren's mind. "...No." Saren sighed. "Taking these three out isn't worth the cost in manpower, and with the damage done the quarian is of no concern to us anymore. Besides, with Shepard dead, the biggest threat to our plans is gone."

"But with the Council moving against you..."

"The Council will simply remove my Spectre 'privileges', which I am no longer dependent on. I can manage the rest of our operations from within the Terminus Systems. The Council's fear of all-out war will keep them from sending any sort of task force after me."

"And the Spectres?"

"The Spectres are far too busy keeping the peace across the galaxy. They'll be able to spare one, maybe two after me. If they make it all the way to the _Sovereign, _well..." His mandibles parted, just so, the turian equivalent of a smile. "Then they'll have proven their value to me, and I shall be able to...convince them to join my cause."

"What is our next move, then?"

"Have you succeeded in locating your daughter?"

"...My spies are investigating rumors of her presence in Caleston, apparently the miners there found a Prothean ruin, and the University of Thessia has dispatched a research team to excavate it. I am waiting for their report."

Saren biotically pulled his marble seat back onto its anti-grav mount. "Have you anything else to tell me?"

"Not at the moment, no."

"Then leave me," commanded Saren as he seated himself.

"As you wish." Benezia bowed, and left Saren alone to meditate on his seat. With little else to do but wait until his other agents sent in reports, Saren decided to distract himself by reviewing the profiles he had been shown. Something had bothered him about the human's dossier: his age. At 190 Terran years, Jensen should have died some 30 years ago. This anomaly prompted Saren to examine Jensen's medical records. Excellent physical condition, no chronic diseases, no gene mods, and...a prescription for Neuropozyne, the human equivalent of _Raffia. _Jensen's profile had no Biotics ratings, so Saren assumed he was a cripple in need of prosthetic implants. That alone should have confined him to a desk, but Pallin had him on the streets. It wasn't hard to figure out why.

Realizing that he wasn't getting the full picture, Saren ran a simultaneous search for "Adam Jensen" on his database and the extranet. The first hit was, to Saren's surprise, an extensive dossier put together by Nihlus Kryik, Saren's former protégé: he had collected C-Sec academy scores, various interviews from Elysium citizens and co-workers, and much more detailed medical files on Jensen's prostheses and implants. More hits came along, news articles concerning a vault of ancient human technology being uncovered, and one of its cryogenically preserved, cybernetically augmented subjects – Jensen – waking up, escaping, and evading authorities for weeks before finally being caught. More articles: political uproars, ethical debates, legal ramifications, terrorists attacks, and Jensen was in the middle of it all.

Saren rose from his chair, approaching Jensen's pictures. They merged to create a three dimensional, life-size holographic bust that Saren closely studied. He was a somewhat gaunt-faced pale human with dark brown hair and beard, with black plastic clips mounted on his temples. A scar marred his left eyebrow, and a prominent hexagon was carved onto the left side of his forehead, just below his hairline. The rest of his face was neutral, but his long eyebrows, low brow and narrow eyes conspired to give him a permanent frown and a defiant glare.

Saren couldn't help but glare back, and let out a long, low growl.

**~[h+}~**

* * *

CODEX ENTRY: CULTURE: TURIANS: PALAVEN: MYRMIDON

_Myrmidons are legendary creatures of turian myth, servants of the Titans that once ruled the surface of Palaven in ancient times. They were, according to myth, molded from anything from clay, lava, water, or any combinations thereof into the form of tall, 'humanoid' bipeds. They were considered by the ancient turians to be peerless warriors and thought to possess a portion of the power of the Titans themselves. When the Titans fell asleep and became the mountains, the Myrmidons appointed themselves as their guardians, and effectively withdrew from the world, only to be seen during times of great turmoil and change._

_They are a popular subject of modern turian fiction, and the name has been in use for centuries to denote military vehicles and units._

**~[h+]~**

* * *

CODEX ENTRY: THESSIA: CITY STATES: PENTHESILEA

_Penthesilea is a sovereign city-state in the middle of the main continent on Thessia. Throughout its history, Penthesilea had come under attack by invaders, resulting in an extremely militant culture. Ancient Penthesileans were considered by all other asari to be obsessed with physical training, mental discipline, and martial prowess, so much so that only proven warriors were allowed to mother children. The enduring physical trait of Penthesileans is a far larger physical size than the average Asari, as well as a denser, more defined musculature. Unfortunately, Penthesilea is considered one the more element zero poor regions of Thessia, and as result its inhabitants are considered some of the poorest biotics on the planet. The modern day Penthesilian is extremely dependent on biotic amps. _

**~[h+]~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I toyed with the idea of turning Saren into a sort of Loghain/Ammon Jerro, a tragically misguided anti-hero and an obvious threat that everyone went after while the real villain was free to gather its strength. I decided against it, though, as I would have had to rewrite previous chapters and excise any reference to Saren and the Geth. Oh well.


	10. Just Rewards

"Hold still_._" said Dr. Chakwas. "And for God's sake, stop _eating like a pig._"

The turian C-Sec officer – Garrus Vakarian – was sitting at the SSV Normandy's Mess' table, wolfing down his third helping of dextro gourmet rations. Nihlus Kryik, the Spectre that had intended to stay on the Normandy for an extended evaluation period, had brought in half a year's worth of the stuff. With the Spectre dead and Vakarian hungry after his eight hour therapy, Chakwas saw little harm in giving him a couple. She hadn't expected him to go for a third, but apparently he had worked up quite an appetite.

Chakwas was doing a follow up scan on his peripheral nervous system with her omni tool. He had, much to her shock, been "given a greasy acupuncture", a torture method involving Greasel venom and something sharp. The damage to his nerves, not to mention the rest of his organs on account of levo-dextro complications could have been devastating and permanent. As soon as she had finished ensuring the quarian's survival, started a battery of injections meant to repair the damage.

The Omni-Tool bleeped, and she reviewed the data streaming on the small holographic screen. The results: Garrus Vakarian was once again a healthy thirty-two year old turian. Very healthy. In fact, he was in far better physical condition than _Nihlus _had been.

She had shared that fact with him, and as soon as Vakarian finished chewing a mouthful of black beans and mushrooms covered in wine sauce, he quipped: "Try keeping up with a cyborg for the past four years! I _guarantee_ it'll keep you in tippy-top shape."

"So you were being shot at with a GEP launcher, and...?" Jenkins prodded. He was sitting across from Vakarian, trying to glean more of the story that brought the Normandy's three guests to its doorstep.

"Mmph?" Garrus had just put another mouthful of beans in his mouth. He had, Chakwas noted, the decency to talk without his mouth full, and took the time to chew and swallow before continuing to talk. "Right, so I manage to bank and roll just in time for the Hornet missile to miss me, but it's a tenacious little bugger and it comes about. Jensen, spirits bless him, had the good sense to shoot it before it-

"Jensen shot a missile? With a _pistol_?"

"Well, a _Cicada_ machine pistol, actually. It's not that hard a trick to pull off if you've got one of those , just lead the missile and fire a full burst, and you're almost guaranteed to hit something as small a missile. Now, _my_ shot, that was something to see! Soon as the Hornet blew up I whip out my Mongoose_,_ open up a window, line up a shot for the huntress with the missile launcher and BLAM!, thirty meters away, cars are moving at over a hundred klicks per hour, right between her eyes!"

"Whoa... and then what happened?"

"You know what?" Chakwas crossed her arms. "I'd much rather you skip to the part where you and Mister Jensen decide it's a good idea to take a sick and wounded quarian girl to an Alliance ship instead of a proper hospital."

"But don't you want to hear the part where Jensen hijacks the Sky Rover and-"

Chakwas gave him a withering glare.

Vakarian threw his hands up, still holding his knife and spork. "Okay, okay! Truth is once the EMTs had stabilized Zorah and put her in the ambulance, we weren't sure where to take her. Hospitals aren't exactly safe as houses when someone wants you dead. Receptionists don't exactly pat people down when someone comes in, and as long as you _look_ like you got business here, the rent-a-cops won't bother you. Combine that with an immobile target, and it's a hitman's wet dream."

Sorrow fell on Chakwas and Jenkins' faces, and Vakarian looked back and forth between the two, curious.

"Did...did I say something wrong?"

Chakwas answered first: "No, it's just..."

"Shepard was killed." Jenkins interrupted. "In a hospital."

Garrus had heard something about that, but he had not gotten any details. "Damn...I'm – I'm sorry."

"No, no it's alright..." Chakwas reassured him. "We're all just – the shock of it still hasn't quite worn off."

"But you understand, now. We couldn't risk the same thing happening to Zorah. Plus, we needed to get that proof to someone who would use it. Putting it through the system was too risky – if Saren had a goon planted in C-Sec or if the Spectres come along and seize the evidence for some bullshit reason then it would vanish and everything we worked for would have been for nothing."

"What about that Wrex fella?" asked Jenkins.

"What about him?" Garrus answered dismissively. "He's a merc on the Shadow Broker's payroll. Hells, I'm surprised he let us walk away with a copy of the evidence..."

"Well, the Shadow Broker might have-"

"Kid, the Broker is in this for himself. Or herself, whatever. If the Alliance couldn't pay top credit for that intel you can bet it would have sat in some hard drive until the end of time. Or he could have used it to blackmail Saren or whatever. Point is, Broker's not a...what's the human term..."

"A good Samaritan?" Chakwas supplied. "

"Yeah, that's it! Right, so Jensen and I concluded that the best place to take both Zorah and the data was the Normandy. Ship can stay on the move, It's got marines, it's got a very advanced sickbay -"

"-And how did you know that?"

"Documentary. And finally: it's _the_ Normandy: First vessel of its class, first diplomatic cooperative design project between the Hierarchy and Alliance Navies, and therefore whatever happens on it will be reported immediately to Udina without any delay. We give him the evidence, and he gets it immediately to the council."

"He would have, except for the part where Jensen practically held that evidence hostage to ensure Ms. Zorah got treated."

Vakarian looked sheepish. "Eh, heheh...that, that wasn't my idea."

"I would have treated her, you know. No questions asked."

Vakarian became very quiet, sighed, and set his utensils down.

"Five years ago, Jensen and I got paired up to investigate an arson case that lead us to the Cylenander murders. I had just made Detective Corporal and he was a Police Constable first class assigned to drive me around the Citadel. We needed to speak to an elderly Volus at an hospital on Shalta Ward. As we parked our cruiser in front of the hospital we found a figure lying prone in the grass, close to driveway. It was a quarian clad in a blue and white cloth, a boy, unconscious and barely breathing. Passerbys ignored him – I figure they thought he was drunk or something – and I was about to do the same when Jensen decides to check up on him. Toxicology scans revealed nothing, a generic medical scan told us that he was extremely sick with some kind of flu. We brought him in the emergency ward, they said they'd take care of him and we moved on to our business."

Vakarian picked up his spork and started picking at his food. He did not take another bite. "The Volus was a bit delirious from his meds and we had to come back the day after to get anything out of him. We did, and Jensen excused himself to check up on the Quarian again. He was gone."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that he died but-"

"-I wasn't finished," Garrus interrupted, annoyed. He sighed, and put his spork back down. "I meant to say he was _gone, _as in he vanished. There was no record of him ever being there. Jensen asked a few nurses and, after some persuasion one of them told him that the quarian had been transferred to another hospital on the Ward. Our business concluded for the day, Jensen decided to visit the other hospital and we parted ways. In the morning Jensen had arrested four hospital administrators and three head nurses for Gross Negligence and Dereliction of Duty of Care. According to Jensen each admin dumped the kid to some other hospital. None of them wanted to get stuck with a sick quarian: Hospitals on Shalta are...'prestigious', you see, and treating a quarian is a mark on said prestige. Jensen had tracked the boy through three other hospitals before he found him dead in a run-down clinic in the Upper part of Shalta."

Chakwas was aghast. "That's...disgusting! No self-respecting doctor would abandon a patient like this!"

"Well, they did, and if you want more stories about quarians getting screwed by the Citadel's health care system I'd be happy to oblige. Point is, Jensen had learned pretty quickly that when it comes to doctors and sick quarians, you have to twist the doctor's arm to get him to do his job."

**~[h+]~**

* * *

_"Servants of the Reapers," _boomed a deep, raspy voice._ "Hear me!"_

The high resolution 3d video file was showing multiple perspectives of the same subject: an turian clad in white armor with a prosthetic left arm -Saren, evidently- with an Asari Matriarch wearing a dark pinstriped dress and a matching, pearled headdress at his side. They were on an large floating platform, overlooking a huge hangar bay filled with Geth troopers and vehicles, all ambiently lit by a blue gloom, while Saren and the matriarch were illuminated from above by a harsh white light.

_"The humans have uncovered a valuable artifact, an undamaged Prothean beacon, containing a portion of the Shibboleth! Through the Shibboleth, the Conduit will be unlocked, and through the Conduit, the Reapers shall return! The importance of this mission is paramount, and thus I shall lead it personally! In a few moments the attack plans will be uploaded into your memory cores! Study them, embrace them, and this first step in this crusade will end in victory!"_

_"All hail the Machine Messiah!" _cheered the Matriarch. To the surprise of Anderson, Jensen and Udina, the machines did indeed cheer, raising their weapons in salute and making an ungodly noise through their speakers. Saren opened up his arms, basking in their praise.

More holograms appeared. A sphere representing Eden Prime, surrounded by diagrams for orbital drops and approach vectors for dropships designed to minimize exposure to the city of Constant's impressive GARDIAN laser emplacements. A holographic map of Constant, detailing weapon emplacements, choke points, garrisons, the typical load-outs of an Alliance Marine, everything needed for an invasion.

The lights inside the Normandy's briefing room brightened while the holograms faded into nothing.

"This is it!" Anderson exclaimed. "This is undeniable proof that Saren's is responsible for Eden Prime!"

"I would hardly say undeniable." said Udina, skeptical. "It's an elaborate video presentation, yes, but the council will certainly want to examine it closely for signs of forgery."

"We could also cross reference the battle plans with the data from Shepard's ground team's hard-suits, not to mention the debriefs from the surviving troops and the Normandy's scans."

"None of which will matter if it turns out to be a forgery. Jensen, is the quarian willing to testify under a VK device as to the authenticity of this?"

"Ask me again when she's not sick and unconscious," Jensen responded flatly. "But when you consider that several chemically augmented turian clones were after her for it..."

"Hmph, better that we don't involve the quarian with the proceedings, it might just damage our credibility." He turned to Anderson. "_You _did plenty to damage it with Shepard's _dreams_, already. And then _she_ had to open her big mouth."

Anderson gave Udina a dirty look. Adam spoke up before he could fire back. "What's all this talk about Shibboleths, Conduits and Reapers?"

"That?" Udina rolled his eyes. "Saren's taking a page from every dictator's handbook and playing on the Geth's religious superstitions. You heard the woman call him the 'Machine Messiah'."

"And the fact that he's managed to manipulate _androids _into becoming _religiously and_ _fanatically devoted _to him doesn't strike you as odd or even slightly ominous?"

"I know Saren," Anderson said to Jensen. "He's working with the Geth for one reason: To exterminate the entire human race! Every colony we have is at risk! Every world we control is danger! Even Earth isn't safe!"

"...I don't buy it. If he just wanted a body count in the millions he would have just dropped an asteroid on Eden Prime from high orbit and called it a day. And he would have followed that up immediately with another attack."

Udina put a hand on his chin, thinking. "Well, the Beacon is too tempting a prize to pass up, or destroy."

"It is, which makes things even weirder. It'd have been smarter to have it stolen discreetly. Instead, Saren tips his hand by attacking an entire colony with his army of robots. Something's wrong here."

"Saren loves the violence, trust me," Anderson frowned for emphasis, "I know. A bombardment would be to impersonal for him. A theft would be TOO discreet."

Adam raised an eyebrow. This was getting personal for Anderson. Too personal. "I think there's more to this than just Saren and a personal vendetta against all of mankind. Something else is at work here, and this...Shibboleth, the Conduit, and the 'Reapers' are important to it somehow."

"Regardless," added the diplomat. "This data should at least be enough for the Council to summon Saren to personally confront our charges. I should go an deliver a copy of this to them as soon as possible. Jensen?" he snapped his fingers. "Make me a copy."

Jensen complied, despite his annoyance and being finger-snapped at. He slotted a data-stick into his Omni-Tool, dragged and dropped a holographic cube from one holographic basket to another. A radial progress bar appeared, tracking the progress of the data transfer.

"I'm including what we found in Fist's Pocket Secretary and his Laptop. We know he was working with Saren, so I'm hoping there's something in there that will incriminate him a little extra."

"Hm, I'll have the Alliance Intel Operative have a look at it. Speaking of which, how's the investigation into Shepard's murder going?"

"I've made some progress. That's all I can say on the matter."

"_Some_ progress? I'm surprised there was _any_ sort of progress between you holding this critical piece of evidence hostage to save your quarian _girlfriend_ and watching over her like a loyal dog."

"Don't forget getting sidetracked by the whole 'rescuing-my-partner-and-keeping-a-critical-piece-of-evidence-that-will-allow-you-to-_bring-a-mass-murderer-to-justice-_out-of -said-murderer's-hands' thing."

"And for that, we are grateful, " said Anderson. "Aren't we, Udina?"

"I..._suppose_ we are, yes. I was going to say that Agent..." He activated his pocket secretary and opened his email. "...Sarah Walker will be arriving on the Citadel very soon to head up the investigation. I expect you to not be so easily sidetracked while under her watch, is that clear, Jensen?"

"Crystal." answered Jensen as he handed the data-stick over. "Is there anything else?"

"No, Jensen." Udina dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "You can leave."

Jensen nodded slightly to Anderson and made for the door. Once the cyborg was out of the briefing room, Udina broke the silence.

"So, Anderson, what do you think of Adam Jensen?"

Anderson raised an eyebrow – it was a curious thing to ask all of a sudden. "I think he and his partner went above and beyond the call of duty to make sure Saren gets his due."

"Is that...admiration in your voice? Is that why you didn't arrest him?"

"_Arrest_ him? For _helping_ us?!" Anderson couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't think Udina could be that ungrateful.

"For crashing an ambulance in our docks, for damaging Alliance property, for forcing his way into your ship and making demands of the Alliance to waste valuable medical resources on some quarian vagrant by withholding critical evidence!"

"Yes, that was dick move on his part, no denying it! But what really, really angers me about that situation was that he felt the need to do it! I would have had Chakwas treat the girl! Hell, I'm certain she would have done it even if I ordered her not to! I told him so, but Jensen didn't believe me, at _all_! And you know what? If it hadn't been for some truly, disgustingly idiotic behaviour from our part, he would have never done what he did!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, the Alliance-"

"-fucked him. We fucked him at Elysium. The man who helped save a whole colony, and what do we do? We alert Order cultists of his whereabouts! We ruined his life!"

"The Order _Church _had legitimate grievances with Adam Jensen! They had a right to know!"

"They're a CULT, Udina! And a pack of terrorist murderers to boot! As for their 'legitimate grievances', it's the same grievance they have against anyone with electronics in their bodies, including biotics! Including _Shepard!"_

"Whatever else the Church may be, it is also an organization with a membership counted in the hundreds of millions! It is an organization that all nation-states on Earth and by extension the Alliance itself has to deal with on the political arena! The Order did not appreciate us not holding Jensen for them, and unless you want the Alliance caught up in a war with the Templars that means the next time you have a golden opportunity to subdue Jensen, you're going to take it, you're going to bring him to Earth, and you're going to deliver him right to Her Holiness' doorstep with a card saying 'courtesy of the Systems Alliance'! "

"...No."

"What?"

"You may have forgotten this, but you're not military: you don't get to tell me to do squat."

"Maybe not, but the Admiralty is in fact part of the military and can tell you to do squat and otherwise. In a few days, an encrypted email will be sent to every ship in the fleet with standing orders for every officer. If Jensen sets foot on Alliance sovereign territory, including space vessels and installations, he is to be captured and brought to Earth."

"...I don't believe you. Jensen is only one man and he's not a threat to us. Parliament couldn't possibly-"

"-_Never_ underestimate what just one man can do to harm a nation, Anderson."

"Harm a nation?! Udina, he was instrumental in saving Elysium!"

"It was Sergeant Reynolds that rallied Elysium's militia and _no one else._"

"And Jensen was part of that! Even Reynolds said his defense would have crumbled without him! Moreover, he's become a decorated C-Sec officer! Hell, he's the only decorated human in C-Sec, setting an example for every human in the force! If anything Jensen's looking out _for_ the Alliance!"

"Oh, and you think his 'example' makes us look good? That he's doing us a favor out there? He's shaming us all! He's a walking declaration to all the Citadel races that humans are WEAK. That we need _machines_ to prop ourselves up to keep up with the Turians, the Asari and the Salarians! And you know what else? The _Admirals,_ agree with me. The _Alliance Parliament_, agrees with me." Udina made his way to the door, turning his back on Anderson. "Start to learn to be a team player in the game of politics, Anderson. Hackett and Yang do, and that's why they are admirals while you're still a Captain. I'll speak of this with Operative Walker, maybe she could help us set up a trap once this policy becomes...official."

Just as the door opened, Anderson spoke: "Udina?"

Udina stopped past the doorway and turned to face Anderson. "Hm?"

"When you hand over that evidence to the Council, and when they come back to you and declare Saren rogue, vindicating you in front of every representative of the Citadel races, I want you to remember this: It was a _quarian_, a _turian_ and a _cyborg_ that made it all possible.

Udina sneered, and the door shut itself.

**~[h+]~**

* * *

The Ambassador made his way to the airlock near the bow of the mostly deserted ship. He had hoped for a proper escort for a man of his importance, but most of the sailors and all of the marines on the ship were on shore leave. Only the helm was manned by two men. One of them, the helmsman, sitting in the middle chair, was quite busy watching some vids. He cleared his throat meaningfully.

"You. Open the airlock." he commanded.

The helmsman looked behind him, not even leaving his seat, and silently complied and got back to his viewing, barely paying attention to Udina. The ambassador considered taking umbrage at that slight, but he had a meeting with the Council to get to. The airlock hissed open, and Udina stepped through. He always hated the decontamination process in these things. Rumors of them causing baldness and impotence danced in the back of his head, and he dismissed them as just that: rumors.

The hatch leading into the ship closed, and the ship's VI spoke. "_Initiating decontamination process. Please hold still._"

The decon field washed over Udina, and his skin tingled as it came over him. The field came for another pass, and Udina noticed something in the corner of his eyes. The field came over again, and it outlined an invisible, humanoid shape. Udina tried to scream, but he could feel an iron grip over his mouth, and it lifted him by the head and slammed him against the hull.

"We need to talk." said Jensen.

**~[h+]~**

* * *

The hatch closed behind ambassador Udina and, once he was certain he wouldn't be heard by any politicians, Joker spoke up. "I really hate that guy."

Besides him, Kaidan Alenko only let out a "Hm" and Joker was disappointed. He had hoped to get something more out of the Staff Lieutenant than just that. Then again, everyone hated Udina, so he might as well have said "space is big".

Joker sighed. Alenko had taken Shepard's death harder than anyone else, and he had hoped to cheer him up just a little. Then again, rumor had it that he and Shepard were romantically involved. Joker wasn't a hundred percent sure if that was true, scuttlebutt being what it was, but on the other hand, trying to make idle chatter probably wasn't the way to relieve someone's grief.

He focused his attention back on the video Jenkins had just IM'ed him a link to. It was narrated by Mister Weltall, some excitable salarian with a love of police violence. This one was the latest in a long series dedicated to both Vakarian and Jensen, a car chase straight out of the action vids. He hadn't checked out the others, but the preview screenshots looked kind of exciting. Joker was about to click on some of the more promising ones when he heard the pitter-patter of combat boots. It was Jenkins.

"So, did you see it?" said Jenkins excitedly.

"Yep, I saw."

"I mean, wow! I always thought C-Sec was run by a bunch of chumps, but this has opened my eyes! C-Sec kicks ass! Maybe after my tour of duty if over, maybe, maybe I should sign up? What do you think?"

"Whoa there, Dirty Harry. Joining C-Sec means kissing Udina's ass. Or the Councilors. And from what I hear you didn't make that good an impression on the former."

Jenkins' enthusiasm faded quickly. "Aw, man... And getting the Council's attention is a lost cause..."

"If you feel that strongly about it you can always sign up for one of the police forces on Earth. I hear New York is hiring! Bonus: it's nice this time of the year. Hardly any drive-by shootings this week!"

"Now you're just making fun of me."

"I maybe just might just a little. Seriously though. If you want that kind of action working for the police, Detroit's the place to-"

The airlock hissed open, and joker swiveled his chair to get a look. Jensen came out. "Huh, speak of the Devil. Wait a minute, I don't remember seeing you get in...there..."

Jensen smirked just a little, then he turned from the three men and made his way back to the Normandy's sick-bay. "Your ambassador just pissed himself."

Joker stared at Jenkins first, who was staring back, then at Alenko, who was also staring back, and Joker turned his gaze back on Jenkins.

"You, help me up, right _now._"

Jenkins helped Joker up, keeping an eye on his leg braces and making sure they didn't come under any sudden stress. While he did so, Alenko darted towards the airlock, and just stared at what was inside. Joker and Jenkins followed suit, and all three sailors were looking upon the fallen form of ambassador Donnel Udina, representative of all humanity to the entire galaxy, with a growing liquid stain on his pants and a look of quiet terror on his face, which was quickly replaced with one of indignant fury.

"Well?!" he shouted. "What are you staring at?!"

The three men said nothing, not quite sure how to process the scene. It was Joker that broke the silence. "Well, Jenkins here really, _really_ wants to join C-Sec, and..."

**~[h+]~**

* * *

CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: RELIGION: THE ORDER CHURCH

_The Order Church is a trans-denominational religious group dedicated to the pursuit of natural balance led by the mysterious figure Her Holiness. They work toward personal fulfillment through non-material means and are very protective of the natural state of humankind and the environment. The group has spread worldwide since the Collapse, appealing to people by offering peace and solace from chaos. Every city on earth and its colonies is now represented by a 'shard' of the church, led by a high official bearing the title Luminon. The Church has a membership of more than two hundred million humans, with a growing number of non-humans joining the ranks. Their membership also includes high profile politicians and celebrities in every major superpower on Earth, which gives it great political pull over the Systems Alliance. A factor in this are the Templars, the Order's own paramilitary force. The Templar's equipment and vehicles are said to rival, and even surpass, that of the Alliance. Their fleet, however, is comparatively much smaller, composed of a dozen frigates and hundreds of fighters housed inside a carrier called the Hand of Baphomet. _

_The Church opposes modern cybernetics and genetic modifications, including biotic implants. They have, however, stated that they are not against biotics, but believe that true biotic potential (in the words of Her Holiness) is 'deep within the domain of the soul' cannot be reached by 'polluting our minds and bodies with electronics'. This position is the prime reason why the Order is suspected to be behind dozens of anti-biomodification terrorist groups, but no law-enforcement agency has been able to find conclusive proof of this._

**~[h+]~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Udina forgot Jensen has very good hearing. I'll just let you imagine what Jensen said to Udina. :3 And gee, I wonder who this Sarah Walker could be?
> 
> I...kinda made up Dereliction of Duty of Care, at least at the time. Years later I was told that hospitals are obligated to stabilize emergency patients, but if said patient can't pay the bills or has no insurance, they're let go on the street. Scary, that.
> 
> Weltall means "Universe" in german.


	11. Preparations

"Whew! Well, that was quite a day, huh?" asked Garrus as he closed the X3M's side door and slumped into the seat. It was an automated cab, a small but comfy two-seater run by a VI linked to the Navi Traffic System for people who couldn't or wouldn't pilot an aircar. Jensen was already punching in the coordinates for his apartment first, then Vakarian's, and he slid his credit chit into the nav computer's slot. The VI helped itself to two thousand credits, warmed up the cab's engines, and flew away from the C-Sec's Main Headquarters' parking docks.

Jensen and Vakarian had just personally reported their recent actions to Executor Pallin, who was just about ready to send them to rot in a prison cell. Jensen's car's pulse beacon had been transmitting in the middle of Zakera's slums when the riot broke out, and just before that Chief Quaestor had reported Jensen and Vakarian's involvement in a unsanctioned raid on Chora's Den, which had resulted in the death of its owner and more than two dozen of his 'employees'. The crowning event however, was causing the crash of a SkyRover into a (thankfully shielded) high-rise, highjacking it from its passengers beforehand. Pallin was not happy to hear the crash was connected to the riot.

The raid, Pallin could forgive. Barely. Fist had been a blight on the Citadel and, as a bonus, the raid had also resulted in the capture of Doc Bolton, one of the most sadistic criminals in Citadel space. The riot? Not so much: Jensen and Vakarian had continued an investigation Pallin had ordered them to stop, and all that they had to show for it was a sick quarian they didn't even bring in for questioning. Garrus felt at that moment that Pallin would bring down the axe on their heads for that. Instead, Jensen did something Garrus would never, ever forget.

He threw the book right back at Pallin.

**~[h+]~**

"_You never put a stop to the investigation."_

"_I believe I did, detective. My exact words: Your investigation is over."_

"_I never got an order from our Lieutenant. Did you, Vakarian?"_

"_Er..." Garrus wasn't sure where Jensen was going with this. "Now that I think about it...no. No, I didn't."_

"_Neither did I. Fact is, I suspect that if I were to call her right now, she'd tell me she never got the order to shut down the Saren case from our Captain, and if I were to call the Captain he'd tell me he'd never got the order from the rest of the chain of command. Fact is, your exact words were a statement, not an order, and you didn't bother to file the paperwork and relay the shutdown order to the Superintendent. Chain of command goes both ways, Pallin, and you can't punish us for disobeying an order _you never officially gave."

**~[h+]~**

Garrus chuckled.

"What?" Jensen asked.

"I just remembered the look on Pallin's face when you reminded him about the chain of command. Him. The _Executor_ of all people. _Priceless._"

"Yeah well, he knows the book as well as I do, unfortunately."

"Ah..." Garrus' mirth deflated quickly. "...yeah."

The fact of the matter was that both Garrus and Jensen had both acted against Fist without the authority of a warrant. Vakarian did it first, trying to find a quarian that wasn't even at the Den, and then Jensen had gone in trying to rescue him. That was enough to suspend them for a week without pay while Pallin investigated their story about bio-modified turians further.

Garrus' mandibles flared a bit. "Maybe we shouldn't have been so earnest telling our story?"

"I think Pallin deserves better than us lying to him, don't you?"

Garrus was quiet as the aircab was now entering Bachjret Ward's artificial atmosphere. He didn't stay quiet for long: "...I suppose he could have been more severe. I thought he'd have us hang for the SkyRover crash, though. Reckless endangerment, and all that."

"Well, you tried pulling them over, and they shot you with a GEP gun, so as far as endangerment goes those Asari were the ones responsible. We've got a right to defend ourselves. Wouldn't be very good cops if we couldn't."

"Still, you ever get the feeling Pallin's just looking for an excuse to fire us?"

"It's part of his job, Vakarian. He has to hold us to a high standard. We're not above the law: one misstep and our cases go down the toilet and criminals get away."

"It's kind of hard to play it by the book when the people who write it don't take rogue Spectres with their own private army into account."

Adam sighed. "I know. Hopefully that's the last time us detectives have to deal with paramilitary goons."

"...Right, also, we're just a _few days away from retirement. What could possibly go wrong?_"

Despite himself, Jensen couldn't resist to snicker a bit. "Smartass."

"I'm just saying, I don't think Saren's just going to let this go. Might want to pay Requisitions a visit as soon as we're done with this..." Garrus grimaced. "..._vacation time _Pallin dumped on us."

"I thought you'd be happy for some time off."

"I thought _you _would want to get right back to investigating the Shepard case."

"I do, but I honestly doubt the Alliance's spooks would let me continue once they take the investigation over. Me and the alliance...we don't get along too much."

"Once day you'll have to tell me why so many people on Earth seem to have it in for you."

"I honestly don't know, Vakarian."

The aircab's VI sounded off, declaring the first destination reached. It landed the vehicle near Jensen's apartment building,

"Well," said Jensen as he opened the car's door, "that's me. Take care of yourself."

"Good night, Jensen."

**~[h+]~**

Inside a private room within a first-class passenger liner headed for the Citadel, a human woman, tall, buxom was getting dressed, putting on a form fitting body suit that served as webbing for various gadgets. On the bed was a black and white uniform and several other more casual attires meant to go over the suit. Next to the outfits was a suitcase full of fake dossiers and documents written in complex geometric code. They detailed a whole life, and that had been decoded and painstakingly memorized and absorbed in less than an minute. More importantly, the suitcase also contained papers and forgeries that would allow one some limited authority over C-Sec, enough to take over the Shepard case. The Shadow Broker had been clear: find out everything there is to find out: fingermen, triggermen, accomplices, money trails, the guilty, the innocent, _everything_.

"**Agent Brea, report." **asked the warped voice through the blonde woman's datalink.

She answered the voice in her head silently through her link. "I've reactivated the Sarah Walker identity as ordered. Has the Alliance Intel agent been intercepted?"

"**She has been neutralized. We can keep Alliance Intel unaware as long as we keep sending regular reports back to HQ. I predict it'll take at least a week before they catch on."**

_Good, _she privately thought to herself. The last thing she needed was getting her cover blown.

"**It has been a while since you've been on the field. Are you sure you're ready for this?"**

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Honestly? I would have preferred a little more time to prepare more assets for this op. And I hate getting hands-on."

"**Time is of the essence. You're the closest and the best. Urdnot Wrex and Barla Von will provide adequate amounts of muscle and brains, respectively. Hein will be arriving at the Citadel in the Durendal along with the Deep Eyes Squad shortly. Call on them if you need their assistance."**

"Hein? What's he doing in the Citadel?"

"**He's trying to put Edward Grey forward as a Spectre candidate for the UNAS, amongst other things."**

"Are you sure I can trust the 'General'? He's a little erratic."

"**...I trust him."**

Brea was shocked. The Shadow Broker, the very spider in the middle of a web of intrigue that spanned the whole galaxy, trusted some washed out officer of the United States Marine Corps? She wasn't quite sure how to process that.

"**In any case, it isn't likely you'll need Wrex or the Deep Eyes, not with Jensen at your side."**

She grimaced at the idea. Ah yes, Adam Jensen, one of the Citadel's two supercops. "Sir? Do you really want me to develop Jensen as an asset for this op? I've read his profile: his distaste for intelligence agencies and their agents is bound to make him uncooperative."

"**A woman is dead and the perpetrator is still at large. You will be the only way Shepard will get any justice. He will**_ cooperate. Otherwise, appeal to his sense of chivalry, or seduce him." _

"I just don't think I'll need him."

"**Jensen's involvement in this case is not optional. He has languished in the Citadel long enough, and it is time he was brought into the fold. Is that clear?"**

"Crystal."

And without so much as a goodbye, the datalink shut off, leaving Agent Brea alone with her thoughts. The VI spoke over the intercom, declaring the arrival time: the ship would be docking in less than an hour. She had plans to prepare.

**~[h+]~**

"Well, If we're going to take him down, we might want to use a rocket launcher," said Gregory Adams, the Normandy's chief engineer. He was scratching the back of his shaved head. "Or maybe drop a Mako on him."

In the middle of the Normandy's darkened communications room, a life-size transparent hologram of Adam Jensen was slowly spinning, allowing the people in the room to see exactly what they were going to deal with. Doctor Chakwas had taken medical scans of Jensen to see if he was alright, and she wasn't pleased to see them used to plot someone's capture. She was staring daggers at Captain Anderson, an expression accentuated by the blue glow of the hologram. Anderson frowned: He didn't want to do this either, but when he confronted Admiral Hackett about capturing Jensen, he had taken the opportunity to order him to prepare, thus validating Udina's claims.

The engineer continued: "Basically, Jensen's a Krogan at about a quarter of the weight, so that makes him quicker than one to boot. He's got this is a supple, micro-thin material implanted under his skin, a phased composite. The base is a microfiber weave made from carbon nanotubes suspended in a shear-thickening fluid which grants him hardsuit level protection without the shields. Put in him a heavy hard-suit, and, well..."

"He'd be nearly unstoppable." said Anderson.

"Yeah. Good thing C-Sec only hands out the light ones."

Gunnery Chief Williams raised her hand slightly. "What about EMP grenades? Would that shut his implants down?"

Adams shook his head. "Those dermal implant have electromagnetically conductive elements in them. A grenade won't cut it. Generator might shut him down, but that would take time to set up and he'd have to be right on top of it."

"What about nerve disruptor?" Williams suggested. "The kind-"

"The kind _Batarian slavers_ use, Chief?" Chakwas completed the sentence for her.

"Well... Yes?"

Jenkins spoke up "Um...Wouldn't that involve getting up close and personal to put it on him?"

"It would," said Chakwas, "as a matter of fact."

"Well, me and Joker saw plenty of vids of Jensen - by this Weltall guy? - and...well, I'm thinkin' anything involving hand-to-hand with Jensen is a bad idea."

Adams agreed. "He's got myomer cables for muscles, Chief. Plus..." He highlighted an implant at the base of the Jensen hologram's skull. "That thing supercharges his reflexes-"

"-By about one hundred and fifty percent." Chakwas interrupted.

"-By about one hundred and fifty percent, like doctor says. He's not only stronger than a marine, he's also quicker. He'll dance circles around you and you won't be able to land a hit on him."

Williams sighed exasperatedly and made one final suggestion. "What about gas?"

Dr. Chakwas was the only one who could answer that. When she failed to do so, Anderson prodded her. "Doctor?"

"...It might work," she said finally. "Depending on the gas. Anything that acts on the lungs is out of the question: Jensen has an implanted rebreather with its own oxygen supply wired to sensors at the base of this throat and his nostrils. Something absorbed through the skin might work. I say MIGHT, because..." The doctor tweaked some holographic controls, highlighting several implants and a multitude of hair-thin conduits throughout Jensen's abdomen. "...of these."

"What are we looking at?" Anderson asked.

Adams answered only with a shrug. Chakwas continued: "I was curious as to why Jensen was virtually unscathed. Vakarian had told me that Jensen fell several hundred meters into the roof of a car, using his body to cushion Tali'Zorah, and yet there wasn't a scratch on him. He did, however, have quite a few micro-fractures, which these were integral in repairing. Near as I can tell, this-" she pointed at an implant near Jensen's heart. "Boosts Angiogenesis, and these-" she highlighted the multitude of strands "-determine precisely where the resulting proteins need to be delivered. And that's just for trauma. I have no idea what the other implants linked to that network of hair-thin sensors will do once we introduce an anesthetic to his system."

Adams whistled. "Damn, so he's not tough as a Krogan, he heals up like one too. And here I am, scratching my head as to why we haven't got more people like him in our side. They had this tech back in 2027, and here we are just using plain ol' gene-mods."

Williams was shock was barely contained. "You approve of...this?!"

"Well, yes, actually! I mean, _look_ at all this! Here we've got a guy who can shrug off bullets and lightning, handle heavy weaponry with near-perfect precision and easily lift half a ton without wearing a hard-suit or power armor! Can you imagine the difference that a hundred soldiers kitted out like that could have made on Torfan? Or the Blitz?"

The Gunnery Chief was getting ready fire off a retort, but Anderson didn't give her a chance to do so. "Chief, Lieutenant, we're not here to argue about the pros and cons of augmentations. We're here to devise tactics against an augmented individual and _nothing more_. Is that clear?

Williams calmed herself down. "Right, sorry sir. What about biotics? Those would work wonders on him, right?"

"They didn't have Biotics back in 2027..." supplied Jenkins. Adams began to wince and rub the back of his head.

"What?" asked Williams.

Adams stopped rubbing the back of his head. "Well...Jensen's got kinetic bleeders. Trying to Lift or Push him may not work too well- Kaidan would have to put in extra power to compensate."

"Oh come on!" Williams threw her hands in the air. "There's no way Sarif could have predicted BIOTICS of all things!"

Adams scratched his chin. "No, he couldn't have..."

"What about Stasis?" asked Anderson. "Can he resist that?"

"Hm?" Adams looked up, snapped out of his thoughts. "No, I don't think so. Not unless he has his own biotics which, evidently..." he pointed at the hologram. "...he doesn't. But I'm not the expert on biotics around here. Where's Alenko, Anderson?"

"He's...not feeling too well."

"Biotics acting up?"

"...Yes," Anderson lied. Adams wasn't in the know about Alenko's relationship with Shepard, and what her loss meant to him. He didn't see the point in illuminating him now. "In any case, Kaidan's Sentinel training covered Stasis. We'll try and form a strategy around that."

An hour passed as Anderson, Adams, Williams and Jenkins tried to come up with tactics to take down Jensen. Chakwas stood silently as the four plotted and only offered her opinions when they were asked for. Finally, Anderson checked the clock: it was eleven hundred hours on the ship's clock.

"Alright, that's enough for today." declared the captain as he pressed a couple of buttons on the comm room's console. The lights came on as Jensen's hologram disappeared. "I've got this session recorded – we'll review and put those plans on paper tomorrow. You're dismissed."

Anderson watched as his four crewmen saluted and made their way out of the circular room. Anderson was the last to leave, and he found Jenkins waiting for him.

"Sir." Jenkins saluted. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"...Why are we planning to capture or kill the guy who helped us finger Saren as a mass murderer? And why aren't we going after Saren _right now?_"

Anderson was tempted to put the Corporal in his place, to remind him of his rank and that it wasn't up to him to question Command's decisions. But he still felt the need to explain himself to the boy.

"We aren't going after Saren right away because he operates in the Traverse, which is far too close to the Terminus systems. It's a hornet's nest the and the Council doesn't want to see it stirred."

"I understand that, but we're on a _stealth ship! _We could go in the traverse – or even the terminus with no one the wiser and-"

"-And what, son? The Normandy's a fine ship, you know that, I know that... but she's only one ship. She won't do much good against a dreadnought or a fleet of geth ships. And as for Jensen...as for Jensen, we're just considering scenarios – we do this for everyone and everything we meet." He put a hand on Jenkins' shoulder, "Honestly? Odds are we'll never put these tactics into use."

"I hope so...It wouldn't be right."

"I know, son. I know."

**~[h+]~**

* * *

CODEX ENTRY: SYSTEMS ALLIANCE: ALLIANCE INTELLIGENCE AGENCY

_The Alliance Intelligence Agency (AIA) or Alliance Intel for short is the Alliance's answer to organizations such as the Salarian Union's Special Tasks Group (STG) and the Turian Hierarchy's Frumentarii. Over the years, the AIA has become a capable rival to each of those organizations, an unspoken factor in the meteoric rise of the Systems Alliance on the Galactic stage._

_The organization was initially formed from a cooperation of agents and assets from the United North American States' CIA, the European Union's DGSE and the Oceanic Cooperative Union's DIO, and it is responsible for providing the System's Alliance with national security intelligence assessments to its policy makers. The AIA also oversees sensitive tactical operations run by the Alliance Navy, and sometimes even engages in covert operations with its own agents to immediately (and quietly) suppress and neutralize threats through a combination of infiltration, reconnaissance, assassination, and sabotage. _

CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: SHIPS: USSV DURENDAL

_The Durendal (named after a legendary broken sword from ancient earth mythology) is a United States Space Navy light cruiser , the last of the three prototypes built under DARPA's stealth cruiser project started in 2172.. The 210 m long craft was meant to provide transport and support for several squads of infantry, a shuttle and a Wanzer, and covertly insert them behind enemy lines thanks to a suite of stealth systems. Its main gun, should it have been completed, would have made the Durendal an ideal capital ship killer._

_Unfortunately, countless engineering issues kept the project from progressing. The project was eventually canceled 2178, two of the prototypes were scrapped and the parts were donated to the Alliance's Normandy Project. The Durendal is the only of the three prototypes to have remained space worthy. Today, the vessel is used by DARPA to ferry hardware and personel to various research centers throughout Alliance space. Earth's media has dubbed the vessel: "A testament to the UNAS' wasteful military overspending."_

**~[h+]~**

  
  



	12. The Selection Process

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fantasy casting: Edgar Hein is voiced by James Woods.

_Something was wrong about this place._

_It was a cold autumn in this forest filled with dead trees of blackened bark, black branches veining a foggy gray sky. Fallen dead leaves cracked under the pressure of Adam's footfalls, adding an echoing texture to the faint howl of the wind...and the whispers of unseen strangers that stalked a lonely, lost quarry._

"_Hello?" Adam's voice echoed. "Is anyone out there?" _

_The distant laughter of children answered his call, but Adam simply couldn't find its source. He called out again, louder this time, and the laughter quieted. Off the corner of his eye, Jensen spotted something moving. He turned to get a better look, and he saw a young boy of eight, dressed in black pants and a blue hooded sweatshirt running behind a tree. When Adam approached the tree to speak to the hiding boy, however, he could find no trace of the child anywhere._

_More movement in the corner of his vision. The same boy, running deeper in the forest. Adam gave chase, hoping that the child could lead him out of the forest, only for him to vanish behind another tree. The boy reappeared elsewhere, and elsewhere again, and it took a moment for Adam to realize that he was chasing twins. Twins, running towards a woman in a white coat and light brown hair._

"_Megan..." Adam's stopped his pursuit at the sight of her._

_The two boys happily came up to Megan, who welcomed them with a warm smile. She knelt to embrace them both, hugging them tightly as if they were her own children. One of them pulled away from her embrace. He had something to show her, something amazing! A glowing orb, a drop of the sun the size of an orange. Megan was fascinated, and as she reached out to touch the ball of sunlight Adam braced himself for what was to come. He had been here before, he had suffered through this before, and try as he might to stop her, try as he might to wake from this nightmare he knew it was futile: He would suffer the sunfire again, watch as Megan and the two boys turn to ash in an instant again, and would endure as a wave of fire cooked off his flesh down to the very bones again. _

_But bathing in a sea of flames was never the worst part._

_The worst part was, as always, the screaming of a hundred children._

"_I'm sorry." Adam told them, sobbing, but the tears evaporated in the flames, along with everything else._

_ **~[h+]~** _

Jensen opened his eyes and gasped as he suddenly half-rose his couch, sweat beading on his body. He looked at his arms, and he sighed in relief as he confirmed they hadn't melted off in the heat.

_That dream again, _Jensen thought. It had haunted his nights too frequently, disturbing his rest to the point where Jensen dreaded going to sleep sometimes. The pills helped get enough REM phase sleep, but they pretty much guaranteed the nightmares.

Jensen cradled his face for a moment, took a deep breath, exhaled, and made his way to the balcony for some fresh air (at least, what passed for fresh air on an ancient space station). The day globes hovering above Bachjret Ward were casting a dim orange light over the city. It was the beginning of a brand new day.

He began his usual routine (which had been disrupted yesterday by that emergency call) by taking a long shower, then brushing his teeth, then maintaining his facial hair (a post-it on the mirror said: _see a barber, head's getting a bit shaggy_). Once the trimming was done and the shaving gel residue was washed off, Jensen took a moment staring at the mirror and finally realized something he had forgotten after all these years.

"Jesus Christ, I'm _forty-six," _Adam said to himself out loud. If he included the time in he spent on ice, the number went all the way up to one hundred and ninety. And yet, looking into that mirror, he saw the man he had looked like all the way back in 2027. Try as he might, Adam simply couldn't find any extra wrinkles, any sagging bit of skin, or even one gray hair. He wondered if decelerated aging was a side effect of the meds Sarif had injected him before putting him in the freezer, or the Sentinel RX-2 system's, or whatever the hell White Helix Labs had done to him when he was a boy. Or maybe, just maybe, he was just one of the lucky folks that wouldn't look a day over forty until his sixtieth birthday.

Deciding that dwelling on his apparent youth would not be time well spent, Jensen stopped staring at the mirror, dried himself, and put on a plain t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. His stomach growled: the adventure from the day before had taxed his energy reserves, and his metabolism had been fiercely burning calories to replenish his batteries. Jensen cursed Sarif's upgrades: Sure, he no longer needed to eat a candy bar every time he punched someone, but the tradeoff were some mighty hungers that really put a strain on a food budget. Oh well, it was time for breakfast in any case.

Room 451 was a loft, one hundred and seventy cubic meters of space Jensen had filled with various bits of junk and detritus (along with the basic necessities and a few luxuries). In contrast to the mess that surrounded his long leather couch and coffee table, the kitchen area was incredibly clean and tidy: Adam didn't mess around when it came to cooking food.

"TV, on. News." Jensen said aloud, and the VI controlling the various electronics around the loft responded to his voice and activated the electronic wallpaper that covered the walls. It created a several 16:9 video windows where Jensen would be able to see the news as he prepared his food. The video went through the usual: the planned fake weather, events around the Citadel, and so on. As Jensen opened his fridge to take out the ingredients needed for an omelette , he heard the familiar sound of one of the Powers that Be, Salarian Councilor Valern, over the omni-directional speakers.

"_The evidence has been thoroughly analyzed, and it has found to be irrefutable: Saren Arterius is responsible for the Eden Prime massacre and has become a threat to the peace of the the galaxy by allying himself with the Geth."_

Bacon, leftover potatoes, twelve eggs, Thessian frying peppers (red AND green). Adam put the ingredients on the counter and an oiled frying pan on the stove at high heat. Sparatus, the Turian spoke up:

"_Since Saren has not answered our summons to personally face his accuser and defend himself in light of this evidence, we have decided to strip him of his Spectre Status, effective immediately, and the Council will do what is necessary to bring him to justice."_

Jensen chopped the peppers up with the speed and precision of a machine. He had gone through every pepper in ten seconds; they were ready to be fried, but the pan wasn't quite hot yet. While it heated up on the stove, Adam started breaking the twelve eggs into a metal bowl and beat them with a whisk.

"_Ambassador Udina?" _asked Tevos, the Asari Councillor. "_Do you have anything else to add?"_

"_Err...Yes. The Systems Alliance would like to thank..."_

"_...Yes?"_

"_We would like to thank pilgrim Tali'Zorah nar Rayya and C-sec Detectives Garrus Vakarian and...Adam Jensen..." _Adam looked up at one of the screens: Udina was wincing like he was passing a kidney stone._ "...for their efforts in bringing this evidence to light. Were it not for their efforts, the thousands of innocents dead on Eden Prime would have received no justice."_

Adam smirked as the three councilors looked at each other, confirming each other's incredulity: Udina was not known to show any kind of gratitude to anyone and quick to take any and all credit for humanity whenever he could grab it. It must have taken every ounce of willpower for the good ambassador to say every word that just left his mouth.

"_Of course," _he continued. _"I must ask how soon justice will be served! Has the fleet been sent into the Traverse?"_

"_Sending in the fleet in is unnecessary," _answered Sparatus._ "Saren is a man on the run for his life and his resources as a Spectre have been stripped away from him"_

"_And a fleet is not an appropriate, or effective, response to a fugitive," said Valern._

Udina was indignant, and started pointing his finger at the council._"It is an appropriate response to a fugitive in command of **a dreadnought and an army of Geth! **Send your fleet in! Keep our colonies secure!"_

"Ah, Udina..." said Adam as he fried his peppers. "You were doing so well." As much as he hated to admit it, though, Udina had a point.

"_And a peacekeeping fleet in the Traverse would start a war with the Terminus systems! We will not start a war and potentially sacrifice billions of lives for the sake of a handful of human colonies!"_

Then again, Sparatus had one too. Adam added the bacon into the frying pan.

As always, Tevos had to be the voice of reason. _"Gentlemen, there is an appropriate response that involves neither fleet nor army."_

Sparatus was shocked, but no more than Udina. _"Do you mean...?"_

"_Humanity is about to get one of its wishes fulfilled, Ambassador. However, since your prime candidate has...regrettably been lost to us, we must ask you to reevaluate and resend us your list of candidates. Until you do, this meeting is adjourned."_

The footage cut to Emily Wong's face, live from the Citadel tower. _"With the implication that a human Spectre will soon be selected, the Citadel is abuzz with rumors as from where this champion will come from. With the reported arrival of the infamous USSV Durendal, a likely candidate is Captain Edward Grey, survivor of the Akuze incident."_

A picture appeared next to Emily: it was a snapshot of a man who vaguely reminded Adam of a younger Ben Affleck.

"_Has the UNAS decided to take a more active role in galactic affairs beyond its colonies? Will the Coalition, the EU and the OCU will follow suit? Only time will tell. This has been Emily Wong, for Citadel News."_

Adam continued his cooking, barely paying attention to the rest of the news. Eventually the peppers and bacon had been cooked and seasoned to his satisfaction, so he lowered the stove top's heat and added in the left over potatoes, allowing them to warm up. Once done, he added the eggs and began mixing the contents of the pan until the mixture looked like runny scrambled eggs. He turned off the heat of the stove-top and set the oven to broil. Adam spread some feta cheese on top of the semi-cooked omelette, waited for the oven to be hot enough, and put the pan into it. Minutes later, Jensen had himself a nice Potato and Pepper Frittata, just like grandma used to make.

He cut the Frittata into four, and served himself up a slice along with some cherry tomatoes. He was just about to take a bite before a hologram popped up in front of his face. The Citadel News site was done with its live stream, and the VI thought Jensen would be interested in knowing more about current events by showing it the C-News extranet site. He was about to dismiss the browser and finally enjoy his food when he noticed that he had a voice-mail in his inbox. He commanded the VI to play it, and the message played as Adam finally took a bite out of his food.

"_Hey Jensen, it's Nayak. One of my boys brought in your car, it was right where your friend Vakarian left it. Well, the inside's more or less okay- one of the forward stabilizer rings is out of alignment- but the outside's seriously fucked. There's dents everywhere and cracks all over the glass canopy. Also there's something in some Terran language scratched on the paint job that says – Oh, that's not very nice. Anyways, I've got a few more cars in need of love and care and I won't be able to start fabricating a new hull and canopy for at least a week. I've attached an estimate of the repair costs. I hope we can work something out, I'd hate to put a classic like that in a recycler. Talk to you soon, Jensen."_

"And here I am suspended without pay for a week. Fantastic." Adam chewed the last piece of his serving of omelette and went for seconds. The holographic browser window followed him around and, with little else to do besides eat some more, decided to press on the thumbnail of a large humanoid robot standing over a battlefield. "Audio only," Adam commanded the VI.

"_Today, The Philippines Secessionist Forces on Earth suffered a major defeat. The OCU's 13th Armoured Wanzer Company, with support from the 501st Infantry battalion, destroyed the defenders of the PSF's primary hidden base in the Cagayan Valley, thus capturing the facility. Judging by the amount of war materiel found there, the OCU military claims that the PSF is effectively defeated. A cessation to hostilities in the region is expected within-"_

Adam closed the browser and quietly finished eating his omelette. _This_ was why he hated hearing any news about Earth: even after all these years, Earth was still divided by invisible lines drawn on maps and political and religious ideologies, the kinds of things men just loved to kill each other over. The other member races of the Citadel had achieved some measure of unity, why couldn't humans?

His belly full, Jensen sat on his couch and took comfort in the fact that despite being around three jumps away from the Citadel, Earth and its troubles were far, far away...

_ **~[h+]~** _

In the Citadel's human embassy (which amounted to pretty much a very large and spacious office), Ambassador Udina felt a migraine coming on. Sitting across from to him was a man who had brought the troubles of Earth right to his doorstep. He was a white European human who looked to be in his mid to late forties, with slicked back jet black hair graying at the temples. He was dressed in an all-black USMC officer's uniform which included a long black leather storm coat with silver trim.

"Hein," said Udina, his self-control fraying at the edges, "what are you even doing here? You're not a member of the Alliance and your commission with the United North American States Marine Corps is virtually over. You have _absolutely_ no say in these proceeding.

Hein smirked. "Well, seeing as I'm the chief of DARPA and responsible for providing the Alliance Navy its best toys, including the Normandy-"

"-The Normandy was developed strictly by the Alliance!"

"-On the remains of MY concepts, which the _Turians_ stripped down into a recon frigate. But I wasn't finished: I'm also responsible overseeing the Zeus Project, our entry into the dick-waving competition Hackett – Hi Steve!" he waved at Hackett, who was sitting just a couple of meters away. "- has going with the Turian Hierarchy's Space Force, and it's been a fun decade just watching that monster getting built while dozens of far more interesting and promising projects wither on the vine because of budget cuts, let me tell you. But hey, if helping the Alliance keep its military edge and making sure the Zeus project doesn't explode when we fire up its drives gives me _absolutely_ no pull whatsoever with you (except, you know, it does), then I'll gladly piss off. But I have to ask: if I'm not welcome here..." Hein pointed at Anderson, "what's a frigate captain doing here?"

Anderson raised an eyebrow, wondering why that USMC burnout was paying him any attention. Before he could reply, Hackett came to Anderson's defense. "Anderson was Shepard's commanding officer and is more qualified than anyone here in figuring out a new Spectre candidate."

Hein looked up, as if trying to remember something. "Oh!...right! N7 graduate, first human Spectre candidate ever. I see that's worked _out so very well_ for you, seeing as you're playing with the big boys now. Politically, I mean. Of course, since your candidate has come down with an unfortunate case of _death, _I'm still scratching my head as to why your opinion still counts_..._"

Anderson rose from his chair, ready to strangle Hein. Nobody would make light of Shepard's death. _Nobody. _"Shepard was murdered! And if you think I'm going to let some self important, glorified _accountant_ crack jokes about it, you've got another thing coming, Hein!"

"_Anderson_," ordered Hackett. "Sit down." When Anderson didn't immediately comply, he insisted. "Sit. Down. That's an order." An order which Anderson reluctantly obeyed. But Hackett wasn't done. "Edgar, if you want to have a say in these proceedings..." he gave Hein the kind of glare that could scare off a Varren. "...you _will_ keep your tongue civil. You show that kind of disrespect to the honored dead again, I will have you shot, have your corpse spaced, and the three of us will go on as if nothing happened. Got it?"

Hein just smiled. "Got it. Of course, It's not going to be a long meeting: I've already brought you the best possible candidate." He activated his Omni-Tool and threw orange holographic rings at each of the three other men sitting at the cardinal directions of a round coffee table. Their omni-tools 'caught' the disks, and alerted their respective users of an incoming data transfer. They all accepted, and the holographic image of Captain Edward Grey sprang up on their hands, along with a detailed biography and combat statistics. Udina just laughed.

"Ha! If I ever needed more evidence that you were full of shit, this is it, Hein!" Udina conjured up his email Inbox for all to see on his Omni-Tool. "Do you see these?"

Hein squinted and read one of the email subject lines aloud "Dear...Donnal. R...U...2...Small...4.."

"Not that one!" Udina quickly deleted the offending piece of spam.

Hein snickered. "Problem with your spam filters, Udina?"

Udina ignored him. "I'm talking about THESE! I have emails from the Ambassadors of every major power on Earth! Owens, Chen, Kwanten and De Sable! All of them demand that I submit their lists of candidates to the Council under a veiled threat of ruining the Alliance's economy! And guess what? Owens' list doesn't have an Edward Grey on it!"

Hein waved his hand dismissively. "Pft! Owens wouldn't know a good soldier if one bit him on the ass. I'm certain most of the people on his list are the sons of his friends in the military..."

"_Nathan Frost_ is on the top of that list! Are you saying he's not a good soldier?"

"oh, no no no, he's a magnificent soldier. A _legendary_ soldier...but he's an Army grunt. Never left Earth's orbit and his only insight into what's out there is an Asari porn mag. That, and he's not exactly a leader of men. Edward Grey knows what's out there and he has led men into battle on Mars and beyond. I guarantee you, nobody on these lists of yours have got the experience necessary to be a Spectre. Not only that, he's a certified Wanzer pilot _and_ a Zero-G certified CQC expert. Put Frost in zero-g, and watch and laugh as he loses his lunch."

"As I recall," said Hackett, somewhat unimpressed. "His last sortie was on Akuze. We all know how that worm hunt turned out, don't we? Nine out of twelve of his men gone, 3 Wanzers slagged, and an entire mining station destroyed along with fifty dead civilians. It was Shepard that pulled his ass out of the fire."

"And it was Grey that formulated a strategy that allowed Shepard to kill the remaining two Thresher Maws with, um..._relative_ ease." He sent Anderson a challenging smile. "Call me a liar, I dare ya."

Hackett gave Anderson a curious look. "Anderson? Something to share?"

The Normandy's captain sighed. "Shepard confided in me exactly that. I don't know how the story got twisted around into making Grey look incompetent..." He threw a dirty, meaningful look at Udina. "...but she said that if it weren't for him, she might have died in her APC and would have had to learn how to kill the Maws the hard way. And if she hadn't done that..."

Hein completed Anderson's sentence. "...then the other eight mining installations, plus one refinery, would have perished under a rain of thresher maw acid. Edward's right outside, if you'd like to thank him."

"That won't be necessary," said Hackett, and after some time thinking about it, he made a decision. "Alright, Edward's on the list. Udina?"

The Ambassador harrumphed. "...Fine! But Edward is going to have to run against Frost. I can't very well deny Owens and the UNAS government!"

Hein simply nodded, having just gotten more than he had hoped for. Udina continued: "Now, what am I going to do with the candidate lists from the Coalition, the EU and the OCU? I've got a few hundred names here, quite hastily put together in no particular order along with extensive dossiers for every name – I think they want me to submit the whole thing to the Council!"

Hein smirked. "Leave it to the Coalition to swarm a Spectre selection process... Well, the Council certainly won't be lacking options, won't they?"

"Laugh it up, Hein! This is all your fault! If you hadn't let slip to the rest of the world that a Spectre position was open and that you were going to put Grey in it I wouldn't be in this mess! We need to keep this list short! Every minute the Council spends pondering who the first human Spectre will be is another minute Saren spends working towards the doom of all-"

Hackett put his hand up, stopping Udina from launching himself into a tirade. "Spare us the melodrama, Ambassador. We know what's at stake."

"Let's quickly evaluate the names on the list and pick the two best of each nation to submit," suggested Anderson. "That way we appear fair _and _we'll save time for the Council."

Udina agreed, but wasn't exactly happy at the idea of combing through dossiers. He sighed wearily. "And if the Council doesn't pick their candidate they won't be able to complain to me about it. I'll make sure the Council gives them honorable mentions. Alright then, we might as well deal with the Coalition dossiers first..."

"Shouldn't be too hard," said Hein. "The dossiers are likely heavily redacted."

Udina distributed the files, splitting the work between the four men. To Anderson's and Udina's surprise, Hein worked faster than any of them, picking up their slack. After 30 minutes of reading through personnel dossiers (which were indeed heavily redacted), they had three candidates for the Coalition, their holograms floating above the coffee table. Udina sounded off their names, as if trying to decide if they were good enough to go with 'Humanity's first Spectre'.

"Fei Fong Wong, Helena Zaitsev, and Yang Wenli."

Hackett rose an eyebrow. "Wanzer pilot, Wanzer pilot, armchair Commander. I don't think that's what the Council is looking for."

Hein rose his hand, getting the Admiral's attention. "Yang's called the 'Miracle' and 'Yan Lo's successor' for a reason, Hackett: he could dance circles around you in a fleet battle with just two carrier groups and no dreadnought.

"Not arguing that. As he ever fired a gun at someone, though?"

"He has Marines to do that for him! Look, not all Spectres are the action hero type. Some are just very smooth operators and schemers who use their Spectre authority to coordinate resources and assets against galactic threats. As for the pilots, Fei's a CQC expert and Zaitsev is a crackerjack sniper, skills that serve them well both in AND out of the cockpit."

Udina eyed Hein suspiciously: "You're awfully helpful, considering two of these will be competition for Grey..."

"Not really," said Anderson. "Turians _hate_ Wanzers and those that pilot them. Sparatus will fight tooth and claw to keep them out of the Spectres. Stacking the deck in Grey's favour, Hein?"

Hein laughed: "Are they still sore about Shanxi? Never mind. Stupid question. Of course they are. As for tweaking the odds, well...can you blame me? Besides, any of you want to see the Space Commies have a say galactic affairs? I certainly don't."

"...Be that as it may," said Hackett. "We have to make it look like they got a fair shot at it. Put Yang's name forward, and Zaitsev's. That way we don't look like complete barbarians to the Salarians and we score points with the Asari."

Udina typed on his Omni-Tool's holographic keyboard. "Done. Now, as for the EU, we've got Elsa Devereaux, Ace Wanzer Pilot-"

"And an accomplished Aerospace pilot to boot," interrupted Hein.

"-and an up and coming commodore in the European Union's Space Force called Kircheis Von Lohengramm (also a pilot). I'm detecting a pattern here, Hein."

"What? Oh, you think this is my fault? Gentlemen, right now ALL of the major skirmishes in Sol are being won by Wanzers and Carriers, not Marines and Dreadnoughts. Check the dossiers again – the ones that you skipped? You'll find nothing but pilots, pilots and more pilots. Meanwhile you Alliance jar heads keep trying to spread the myth that your cruisers' bellies are filled with supermen that can destroy a battleship by the power of their cold, hard stares."

He looked at Hackett and Anderson, who were both giving a cold hard stare. Hein wasn't fazed: he believed that they needed to hear this, even if they didn't like it.

"Yeah, see? Like that. In any case, those two are the best the Union has to offer, and the EU is not going to want one of their grunts as a Spectre anyways. Put them on the list."

Udina looked to Hackett for confirmation, who simply nodded. Of course, Udina wasn't quite done arguing

"What about Ashley Riot? He'd be a much better choice for a Spectre: he's has the skills of a biotic soldier AND and those of an agent!"

"He's a _Union_ agent." answered Anderson. You know how they are: He's more likely to go after Coalition targets with Council-backed impunity than Saren. No, Riot's out."

"Agreed," said Hackett.

Udina simply shrugged and "And now we come to the OCU," said Udina, somewhat content that this meeting would soon be coming to a close. "Kim Tae-Yeon and Edward Kelly?"

"I know these two," said Hackett. "Their units have been favourably evaluated for entry into the Alliance forces once the supra-nations start signing the second Ares Accord. They're in."

"Anderson? Hein? Any objections? No? Good!" Udina typed their names in and completed a list of eight candidates for Spectrehood. Udina would have preferred four, but...

"What about us?" asked Anderson. "Who is going to be our candidate?"

Udina began rubbing his eyes. "As much as I loathed her sense of humor, Anderson, I have to admit: Shepard was the best the Alliance has ever produced...and I'm not sure if she can be replaced."

"That's not quite the case," said Hackett. "Gentlemen, I've been in contact with the AIA. They've been developing this black op and wetworks asset for some time now, a spacer Adept with a Newton rating of sixteen hundred. A bit lower than Shepard's but still considerable. They've given me his dossier to submit to the Council." He mimicked Hein's earlier Augmented Reality disc throw, and the three other men accepted the file and displayed it on their Omni-Tools.

On each of their palms shone the image of Johan Liebert Ramsus.

Both Anderson and Udina shot up from their seats and shouted: "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!"

Hackett was not moved by the sudden onslaught, and Hein was utterly confused.

"What the hell are you thinking?!" shouted Anderson. "Johan's a goddamned MONSTER! He was ready to send his men into a meat grinder on Torfan just to gain a little ground! If Shepard hadn't stopped him Torfan would have been a disaster! We do NOT want him for a Spectre!"

And Udina, of all people, had Anderson's back. "Agreed! One look at him and the Council will know what he is – A human Saren!"

Hein played the devil's advocate. "Well, on paper he sounds exactly like what you'd want in a Spectre. I mean, besides his considerable martial and biotics ratings he has scored extremely high on Charm courses. A diplomat and soldier both, you should be glad!"

"Do you see a psychological evaluation in there, Hein? No? Well that's because the AIA went through several psychoanalysts to try and figure him out, and once one of them was stopped babbling long enough, he told us this: Ramsus is a manipulative psychopath! That's where his charm comes from! He cares nothing for the lives of others, and he will carve a bloody swath throughout the galaxy trying to get to Saren! Forget political shitstorms, this would lead to an outright war with EVERYONE against EVERYONE ELSE!"

Hackett rose from his seat. It was time to make his case. "Saren's out there, with a fleet of synthetics who apparently believe he's their _messiah_ who built him a three kilometer long dreadnought for a flagship! He wants something, and whatever it is he's willing to kill thousands – no, millions! – of innocents to get it! He's a monster and we have to send an even bigger one after him! Ramsus IS that monster. He's cold, calculating, uncompromising, determined, incredibly powerful, and will not stop until Saren is dead. And as for Torfan, keep something in mind: those men were WILLING to walk into that crossfire. Ramsus' charisma is undeniable: if he can use it to marshal a force that can rival Saren's and aim it that cuttle boned _bastard, _then all the _better_."

"So that's your solution?" Anderson was outraged. "We swap one villain for another?!"

"He'll be _our_ villain. The AIA has upgraded his obedience conditioning. Now, unless either of you have a better candidate in mind to take on a rogue Spectre turned warlord, I think we've got our candidate. Udina?"

"...No, I have no one."

"Anderson?"

The captain said nothing.

"Hein put Grey forward already, so that's that. Now-"

Anderson interrupted. "Wait. We do have someone better. Stronger, faster, smarter, and most importantly of all, more _human._"

"Who?" asked Hackett.

"I think it's time we made up for Elysium. I think it's time we made up for destroying a man's life. I think it's time we made up to the true hero of Elysium."

"No!" exclaimed Udina. "Out of the question!"

Hein couldn't help but smile. "Well, don't keep me in such _suspense, _Captain. Who?"

"Gentlemen. I say we put Adam Jensen's name forward for Spectre status."

* * *

CODEX ENTRY: VEHICLES: MILITARY: EARTH: WANZER

_The Wanzer (short for Wanderpanzer, or Walking Armor in human german) is a type of mechanized armoured fighting vehicle designed to imitate the humanoid form. Typically, a Wanzer is between four and six meters tall, with some heavier designs reaching as high as eight. It is composed of four modular parts: the chest, the left and right arms, and a pair of legs. All parts are constructed of a lightweight endo-structure covered by composite armor. Each component is plugged in the chest through a standardized plug system, allowing the machine to have its parts quickly and easily replaced. The salvaging of Wanzer parts on the battlefield is a common practice to relieve logistical strain._

_The concept for this AFV had been in development for quite some time, but no military had openly embraced it until the OCU deployed the first functional ones in 2076, during the Huffman conflict. This gave them an initial advantage in conquering UNAS-aligned cities on Huffman Island, allowing the OCU forces to redeploy their tank battalions in more crucial areas. The UNAS eventually deployed their own Wanzers, and the Huffman conflict ended in a stalemate in 2078._

_The debate of the pros versus the cons of Wanzers still continues after a century after the inception of the war machines. Proponents of Wanzer technology note their considerably higher mobility vis-a-vis tanks, their combat effectiveness in an urban environment and their ease of loadout modifications. Opponents to Wanzers note their relative lack of armour compared to tanks, their larger target profiles and their higher maintenance costs. The introduction of Mass Effect technology has allowed a Wanzer to be outfitted with thicker and heavier armor without its feet sinking into the ground, and has increased the performance and survivability of light and medium wanzers considerably._

_The Turian Hierarchy's military remains unconvinced of the strategic advantages of Wanzers despite their role in the First contact war. Mercenary Ace Wanzer pilot Jack Harper acquired a disproportionately high kill count using guerrilla tactics against Turian tank battalions before his Zenith medium Wanzer was taken down by light artillery fire. During the Alliance's joint counterattack with Earth's combined space forces, the OCU's Wanzer squadron known as the Carrion Crows, along with the UNAS' Black Hounds, delivered crippling strikes on the occupying turian ground forces and allowed the Alliance's marines to mop up the rest with ease. The Turian military maintains that, had Admiral Yan Lo not managed to deploy the Snowblind bombs, The Turian fleet could have easily and accurately bombarded the "over-designed wastes of money"._

_Rumors of the Turian Hierarchy funding research and development into Wanzer technology persist to this day._

CODEX ENTRY: HISTORY: MARS: OPERATION ORCRIST

_Shortly after the events of the Blitz and three months before Akuze, the UNAS and the EU began a joint operation to destroy a large group of raiders known as the Tribe infesting the Cydonia region on Mars, a moderately resource-rich area developed by the Redwater Mining Corporation. The raiders were initially composed of one hundred and seventy-six war amputees Redwater had hired in order to cut costs on mining equipment in 2107. When the corporation mishandled its supplies of Neuropozyne, food, and the salary funds, the workers rioted and took over the mines and refineries across Cydonia. Still in need of food and medicine and having no faith in the Martian government (which had, up to that point, ignored their grievances with Redwater), the workers took to banditry to survive. This situation continued for decades until confirmed reports of the raiders jury-rigging their prostheses into full augmentations had reached earth, at which point the UNAS and the EU, two Earth nations with a stake in the area, felt intense political pressure to resolve the situation. A joint EU/UNAS task force was put together, spearheaded by the USMC's Elite Deep Eyes squad. _

_The two-month campaign, dubbed Operation Orcrist, effectively and completely removed the Tribal threat from the area with nearly no prisoners taken. The operation became the center of media attention, however, when it was discovered that the Raiders had created their own, small tribal society, with each raider having a wife and child. While it should be noted that many of these 'wives' were kidnapped, suffering from severe Stockholm's Syndrome and were part of a patriarchal survivalist culture built around grafting cybernetic parts made out of junk, Operation Orcrist had effectively gone from an extreme police action to an ethnic cleansing. Edward Grey, the commanding officer of the Deep Eyes, stopped the operation just short of eradicating the Tribe's 'civilian' population. He reasoned that with the adult men gone, the Raider's military strength was effectively neutralized. When the EU forces wanted to continue with the operation, they came at odds with the Deep Eyes, sparking a diplomatic incident. Sparing the remaining Tribal population, however, resulted in both the EU and the UNAS avoiding a major political scandal._

_Despite being spared, the remaining Tribals were put in an internment camp, their implants forcibly removed, They remain there to this day, unable to become productive members of society._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: Wasn't the beginning of Heavy Rain totally fun? I certainly thought so!
> 
> You may notice quite a few references to other Square Enix works in this fic. Don't worry, I'm only developing the ones that will fit in a cyberpunk military sci-fi world. The rest are just nods. 
> 
> Next chapter: less talk, moar investigations. After that, moar shooting.


	13. Duty Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Final) Fantasy casting: Jane Proudfoot is voiced by Peri Gilpin

Adam sat down at his work desk, his meal almost fully digested. With nothing to do and the boredom setting in, he started feeling the need to do something with his hands. On the desk was Sasha, taken apart and in need of some maintenance. Adam oiled her and put her back together with care and dexterity that would have made Amnon proud.

"Wish I had brought you out yesterday." He said to the revolver. He had taken Sasha apart the day before yesterday, but then his mind (and hands) had wandered onto finishing the other project laying on his Omni-Bench: a replica of the Sarif Herakles Series VI prosthetic right arm. He had built it out of spare parts replicated with omni-gel in order to familiarize himself further with all the bits of his own arm for the sake of maintaining them better. It was functional save for all the extras Sarif's techs had crammed into Adam's Herakles' frame. Also, the outer shell was made out of plastic and ceramic rather than carbon: there were some things the Omni-Bench's mini-fabricator couldn't make. It was a quite a project, and that meant Amnon's custom built Schofield Wolf 645 revolver had been left on the work-desk disassembled when Adam went to sleep, and it stayed disassembled when Adam had gotten the emergency call the morning after, giving Adam with no time to put the gun back together.

But now, 'Sasha' (as Amnon had so affectionately called the gun) was whole again. Adam admired the piece: Its dense, reinforced titanium angular, beveled frame was painted a dark blue-gray, its gel grip painted black. The barrel was partially covered with a black carbon case that protected the sensitive parts of the Armour Piercing Quantum tunneler mod mounted at the bottom of the barrel, its teal light off. Adam had the gun made as a backup in case his main weapon got jammed by a tech attack or plain rotten luck. The AP mod was vulnerable to a Sabotage, but the revolver would remain functional even if it couldn't bypass a layer of armor, and there were always tungsten rounds.

Remembering Amnon's gift, Adam fitted the special tungsten core .357 rounds into 4 moon clips for ease of reload. The hand-loaded ammo were packed with Amnon's special formula: three times more potent than regular gunpowder, the charge gave the gun a kickback that would knock most people down flat after firing it. For Jensen, of course, it was hardly an issue. Jensen had thought about replicating Amnon's powder, but decided against experimenting with high explosives in his apartment.

Adam did a few spinning tricks with the gun, or at least just about every trick Amnon had taught him that could be done with one gun, minus those that required a belt holster. He had managed to kill at least ten minutes doing this before he heard the ring tone over the omni-directional speaker. His apartment's VI conjured up a hologram in front of Adam, detailing the caller's ID. It was Pallin.

"Accept call."

The VI beeped.

"Jensen here."

"Bored yet, Adam?"

"Out of my mind. What do you want?"

"Meet me at my office in the Embassies. And before you get smart with me, I've submitted a 76-B along with the suspension cancellation paperwork. You work for me directly."

The VI beeped again, and a holographic envelope appeared in front of Adam. He tapped it with his finger, and it was, indeed, the necessary paperwork giving Pallin authority to go over the heads of everyone in the chain of command between him and Jensen...and vice-versa.

"Huh. Can I ask why I'm getting such an invitation?"

"The Alliance Intel agent is here. I've tried to convince her to leave you out of the investigation, but your reputation seems to be working against you on that front.

"Not even when you gave her my files?"

"Not even then. She wants you, Jensen. Get over here, that's an _order_."

Adam sighed. No rest for the weary. "I'm on my way," he said, just before closing the connection. He loaded Sasha with a moonclip and set the gun on the worktable. He tiptoed around the mess in the apartment and made his way to the closet. He picked his 'autumn' outfit: black T-shirt, black jeans over brown leather boots, a white cardigan with a zipper and a stand up collar, and a long leather coat patterned with criss-crossing seams, which he only closed with a button strap over the breast, leaving the coat open at the bottom. He also put on a leather thigh holster – this time, he'd be bringing Sasha along. You never knew when you needed a hand-cannon.

**~[h+]~**

Udina pushed the Send button, uploading the list of candidates and their relevant dossiers directly to the Council through a secure channel. "And with that," he said smugly. "We'll have no more talk of making Adam Jensen a Spectre!"

Hein rolled his eyes. "Try and keep it in your pants, Udina." Some of us aren't exactly happy with Ramsus, either."

"Neither am I, but as Hackett just assured us, Johan is someone we can control. Jensen is not a team player, and let's not forget the Order Church's reaction. Or as you've pointed out, the _Templars'_."

While Hein had expressed the opinion that Jensen would have made an excellent Spectre, he also pointed out the inevitably militaristic reaction the Templars would have at the news. If an augment became sponsored by the Alliance to become a Spectre. They would invade Arcturus Station and destroy the Alliance's leadership, take it over, easily crush any resistance and repel any attempt to retake the station. Anderson scowled at this, not quite believing that the Templars could possibly a coup like this off, but Hackett's somber expression spoke volumes in favor of Hein. But of course, Hein wasn't finished:

"_You don't believe me? Fair enough, it does sound quite unbelievable, doesn't it? But I've got the numbers to back it up. Forget what you've read on the Codex: The Templars have THREE supercarrier groups. Three! And each of them composed of six heavy cruisers and twelve or so frigates and support ships. The De Sable class carriers that form the core of the groups can carry eighty fighters, forty bombers, and thirty dropships. Every cruiser and frigate carries a complement of drones. The Hand of Baphomet? It carries twice the fighter complement as the De Sables and has the firepower of a dreadnought to boot. They have over 10.000 infantry, the lightest of which put on _light power armor._ They have hundreds of experimental Wanzers, some of which that are over nine meters tall. Any personnel lost can be replaced by tapping into the millions of pious nuns and monks willing to die for her Holiness. Gentlemen, we're talking about some MAJOR force projection here, and it's at the fingertips of some very, very unhinged people who jerk themselves off at the idea of burning men like Jensen at the stake. No, I think we're better off leaving Jensen right where he is, where he is doing a lot of good. And besides, making Jensen a Spectre just heaps a galaxy's worth of responsibility on his shoulders. If you want to make up for ratting him out on Elysium, Anderson, you should just buy him a rendez-vous with the consort."_

"_How in the hell did you know about-"_

_Hein waved his hand dismissively. "A little bird told me. Now as for Johan, well, I know next to nothing about the guy, but I'll just say one thing: It doesn't matter how much control you think you have over your pet, Hackett. People have a way of going...off the rails, especially when you least expect it."_

And with that, Anderson was overruled, Hein's warning was ignored, and Ramsus made the list. As the progress bar on Udina's laptop made its way to a hundred percent, Anderson silently prayed that the Council would select the one of the other candidates.

"Gentlemen," said Udina. "I have to meet with the Council: I have no doubt they'll make their decision soon. Feel free to stay here a bit longer and make yourselves comfortable – my liquor cabinet is open."

Hein clapped his hands, almost ecstatic. "Oh good! I haven't had a decent drink since-"

"-Except you, Hein." Udina pointed at the door. "Get the hell out of my office."

The DARPA chief put on the saddest, most dishonest pout he could manage. "D'aw, Udina. And here I thought we were friends." Before Hein could make more light of Udina, his Omni-tool bleeped: he had just received a message. He read it all in one second. "But before I go...Anderson? I've had the wetware removed from Shepard's body. You can go and claim the body for a burial at sea. Or space. Whatever."

A flash of anger came over Anderson's face, at which Hein backed away a bit with his hands raised defensively. "Now, now! I was doing you a favor- I hear the AIA and Alliance R&D were very curious as to why Shepard could output more newtons than than an Asari Adept, and now that I've 'spoiled the goods', they won't spend months prodding her corpse with electrodes in an attempt to figure out why."

Anderson's anger gave way to confusion as Hein put a hand on Anderson's shoulder. "You're welcome. Go and put her to rest." And with that, Hein left Udina's office. Udina followed him out the exit, no doubt to make sure he wouldn't come back and raid his liquor cabinet.

"Thousands of people died on Eden Prime," said Hackett as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. "And our world just fucking watches. Then Hein lets it slip that there's an opening for a human Spectre and then all of a sudden Earth scrambles for it. Hmph! Care for a drink?"

"Sure," answered Anderson, nodding. Hackett poured another drink and handed it to his old friend.

"So, what do you think about Hein?"

"First impression? He's an asshole."

Hackett laughed. "Ha! Yeah, that word pretty much sums up half of his character. The other word is _crazy_. Just be glad he's not off his meds. All things considered, though, he's not doing too bad for someone suffering from Beacon Contact Syndrome."

Anderson had heard the story about some hotheaded UNAS military pencil pusher barging in on an experiment involving the Prothean beacon on Mars and getting his brain fried (some people say it _exploded_). Was that Hein? Anderson didn't bother asking: He was more concerned about the Alliance's Spectre candidate.

"Ramsus, Hackett? Of all the fine men and women in the Alliance Navy you pick _Ramsus?_ Why?"

Hackett downed his drink in one gulp and set down the glass on Udina's desk. "Because he's what we need: A killer, not a hero. Heroes feel the need to save everyone they can, carry all their burdens even if that's the last thing they need. They get sidetracked. They lose sight of the big picture. Johan won't."

"And what happens if Ramsus goes on a rampage with a Council-approved license to kill?"

"...If we can't control him, then we'll kill him. It's as simple as that."

Anderson set his full glass on the table, next to the empty one. Between Shepard's death, Adam Jensen's situation and Hackett sponsoring a psychopath, he wasn't all that thirsty. "I should go. I have to make arrangements for Shepard's body."

"...Good, good. But while you're at it take the next few days to prep the Normandy to catch a rogue Spectre deep in unfriendly territory. Whoever the Council picks, he or she will need the speed and the stealth only the Normandy can provide."

"Understood, sir." Anderson saluted, leaving Hackett alone with his thoughts.

And his guilt.

"God forgive me," he said out loud to no one.

**~[h+]~**

Jensen arrived at the embassies. The receptionist told Adam that Pallin was waiting for him and that he was to be directed to the Executor's office immediately. Once there he rang the office's door's bell, and was let in almost immediately.

Pallin was at his desk, naturally, and sitting cross-legged on a white plastic seat across from him was a blonde human woman clad in a form fitting silver catsuit with black thigh-high leather boots and long black silk raglan sleeves connected to the neck by a black lace high-neck collar. The sleeves were a bit loose, and each of them divided into two puffs of cloth by a white ribbon, reminding Jensen of Virago sleeves (and consequently, of the dozens of fashion magazines Megan had left laying around that he had read a century and a half ago).

"Sign here, and here," said Pallin as he handed several datapads to the AIA agent. She would need to fill out a lot of paperwork before having the right to take over a C-Sec investigation (treaty be damned), and then there were the licenses she would need to arm herself legally. To the woman's credit, she filled out the forms with haste and without complaint. Once done, she turned towards Jensen and rose from her chair. Adam had to admit, he was a bit awe struck.

She was undeniably fair, with piercing clear blue eyes the color of the sky. Her voluptuous hourglass figure was balanced out by her considerable height (one meter and eighty three centimeters, by Jensen's estimation), which was propped up by legs half as long as her entire height – an ideal proportion. She smiled at him as she approached with heart-shaped lips on a heart shaped face with her jawline set off by her black lace cravat. Her hair was tied up in a braided coil on the back of her head, with her long bangs side-swept over her right eye.

Adam would have called her European (maybe french) on account of the hair and pale skin, but her face's smooth features and slightly exotic eyes betrayed an Asian ancestry – Korean, perhaps. When she spoke, Adam could easily detect a slight Australian accent, and he decided she must have been born and raised in the OCU.

"You must be the famous Adam Jensen." she said as she held out her hand. "Sarah Walker, Alliance Intelligence."

Adam took a step back and merely nodded.

"...Have I said something wrong?"

Adam fixed her with a cold stare from behind his shades. "...Your perfume stinks."

Her 'perfume' actually did smell very nice, but it was also laced with some kind of artificial pheromone designed to make human men slightly sweaty and/or compliant. Most people couldn't detect it, but after being swayed and then taken by surprise by Zhao Yun Ru, Jensen had Sarif's techs upgrade the CASIE to detect abnormal levels of pheromones in the air. Agent Walker's proximity set off alarms on Adam's HUD.

Agent Walker smile died and she was, for a moment, not quite sure how to react. It was the first time someone complained about her fine perfume, of all things.

"And here I thought all humans liked the smell of crushed flowers," said Pallin. He sniffled, not looking up from his laptop. "Her scent has been giving me a headache ever since she came in. And in answer to your question, Agent Walker: _Yes_, that is indeed Adam Jensen." he turned his gaze on Jensen. "Jensen, under the Article 3 subsection 1 of the Treaty of Aken you are hereby assigned to Alliance Intelligence agent Sarah Walker as her C-Sec liaison until the resolution or closure of the Shepard case. The both of you will answer to me directly. Before you resume the investigation the two of you will report to the requisitions office at the C-Sec academy. Any questions?"

"Could I partner up with Garrus? I'd rather have him watch my back."

"Garrus is, at the moment, paying the full price for that corpse business and Dr Michel's clinic."

**~[h+]~**

Garrus hated Asari children. At fifteen years of age, they didn't quite have enough element zero in their bodies to lift a grown Turian, but an entire class of them coordinating their efforts could easily pull it off. In fact, Garrus was bearing witness to fact at this very moment. Pallin had sent Garrus to an asari school for a presentation on safety (don't talk to strangers, look both ways before crossing the street and all that crap). Halfway through the presentation that milquetoast of a school teacher lost control of her class when the students got into their tiny heads that now was the time to play 'toss the Turian'. Floating in mid-air, Garrus had come to a personal revelation.

He would kill Pallin. He would get through this, and he would kill Pallin.

"Let's toss him through the window!" one of the children cheerfully shouted.

Oh yes, there would be a reckoning for this.

**~[h+]~**

"Still," continued Pallin, "he's technically back on active duty. I'll let you know when you can call on him. Is there anything else?"

"Just one thing?" asked Walker. "How much equipment will C-Sec provide me with?"

"An Omni-Tool optimized for detective work, a gun, and a shield. Anything more will have to come out of your own pocket."

"...Understood."

"Good. You're both dismissed."

**~[h+]~**

Samesh Bhatia rubbed his hands worriedly. Had he made a mistake enlisting the aid of that marine? By some miraculous coincidence, he had caught sight of Gunnery Chief Williams – a good friend of his late wife – a few minutes ago at the embassy's entrance. She had listened to his plight, and her superior officer had been gracious in giving her free reign to deal with Samesh's situation. But when she had confided in him that she might have to get a little rough with the diplomat that stonewalled him, the blood fled from his face a little. If she started an incident, he would never be able to put his wife to rest...

Samesh caught sight of a man in a brown leather coat speaking tersely to a woman – a very beautiful blonde woman – and he recognized the man instantly: It was detective Adam Jensen. What luck! Perhaps he could prevent a disaster! Samesh called out to him.

"Mist- I mean, Detective Jensen! A moment of your time?"

Jensen approached Samesh. "Is there something I can help you with, mister...?"

Goodness, the man was tall. Jensen's companion approached as well, coming in close enough for Samesh to catch the sweet scent of her perfume. For a brief moment Samesh had forgotten that he was in mourning, and his shame brought him back down to earth.

"...Bhatia. Samesh Bhatia. I need your help in a delicate situation."

"I'm listening."

"My wife, Nirali, was one of the soldiers that fell in the defense of Eden Prime. I made a request to the Alliance military that my wife's body be returned to me for cremation. It seemed my request was granted as her body was delivered here on the Citadel, but then I received an email saying that my wife's body would be handed over to some organization called Darpa for study. Handed over! like some piece of- of cargo! And with no justification whatsoever!"

"...I'm just a cop, Mister Bhatia. I don't have any pull with the Alliance."

"I know that! I wasn't finished! I was being stonewalled for days by some man named Bosker, and just as I was about ready to give up a marine, one of my wife's fellows on Eden Prime, listened to my story and decided to do something about it. Something violent, I suspect: she was far more outraged at the treatment of my wife's body than I. Please, I just need you to make sure she doesn't do anything rash. If she does Bosker will likely have me arrested and...All hope of putting my wife's soul to rest will be gone. Please..."

"_Jensen._" The woman seemed annoyed by Samesh's plea. "As...sad as this is, we have work to do. If there's any violence the guards will handle it."

"I'll go and make sure nothing happens, Mister Bhatia."

The woman was indignant. "Jensen!"

"While I'm at it, I'll see about getting you some answers. I can't promise that I'll be able to have your wife's body returned, but..."

Samesh was nonetheless grateful. "Answers, at this point, are more than I could ever hope for. Thank you, mister Jensen. Miss Williams and Mister Bosker are at that expensive bar in the embassy, on the left of the receptionist and up the stairs."

Jensen nodded at Bhatia, then addressed the woman "This won't take long, I'll meet you at C-Sec Academy's armory." And without even waiting for her reply, he made his way to the bar.

"It better not, Jensen!" She threw a slightly dirty look at Samesh before leaving the embassy, and the widower gulped a little. What had he gotten in the way of?

**~[h+]~**

The door hissed open and Jensen entered the embassy lounge. Like every other part of the embassy, it was almost entirely made of plastic. The walls were plastic, the chairs and tables were plastic, the bar was plastic and some of the people were plastic (figuratively speaking, of course). It was one of the reasons Jensen hated coming to the Presidium.

And speaking of plastic people, Clerk Bosker noticed Adam just as he entered, and put his phone back into his pocket. Adam didn't like Bosker: every word the man said, no matter of apologetic or empathetic, felt disingenuous. Also, his purple suit made him look stupid.

"Mister Jensen! Thank goodness you're here! Chief Williams just... accosted me a moment ago, she was very angry."

"Yeah, apparently the Alliance has a thing for dead bodies."

"...Ah, I see you've spoken to Bhatia about this, it's a sad-"

"Save it. Where's the marine?"

Bosker's eyes widened a bit, he wasn't used to being interrupted. "I..." he rubbed the back of his head. "I was afraid for my well being so I directed her towards the Chief of DARPA. He's right over there, along with his bodyguard."

Bosker pointed at two women who were staring each other down. One of them was clad in Phoenix armour with an arsenal strapped to her back. The other was wearing USMC fatigues - a blue t-shirt and pants with black combat boots and she had a knife (decorated with a green jewel hanging from the pommel, strangely enough) strapped to her left bicep and a heavy pistol on her belt. They were arguing with words right now, but they were really itching to do it with their fists. Or their weapons.

"And you wound up making a bad situation worse. _Great._ Stay here, I'll handle this."

**~[h+]~**

Corporal Jane "Spirit" Proudfoot didn't like Alliance Marines. For one thing they kept themselves in shape thanks to their gene therapy. Sure, they went through Basic (any decent military put their recruits through it) but once the muscles and endurance set in, they stayed in as long as the injections kept coming. Keeping in shape the hard way was a mark of pride in the United States Marine Corps, and Jane was proud to carry on the tradition.

The second thing she didn't like about Alliance soldiers? The confidence. They acted tough, they talked to Jane as if they were veterans. Fuckers didn't know war as Jane knew it. She had fought off Red Tribesmen intent on making her their war bride. She had survived the Thresher Maws of Akuze. She had survived the Venezuela Uprising. Scaring off pirates and fighting robots didn't impress her, and they had failed miserably at Eden Prime. Way she heard it, it was Shepard that stopped the city of Constant from becoming a smoking crater while what was left of the planetary defense force ran for the hills.

Third, their women looked like porn stars. Ditto for their men. This Williams was a fine example of this: big glossy lips and double D's packed under a 'breastplate', part of a white and pink armor that hugged her body as if it was painted on her.

"Let me talk to him. Right. Now."

Jane crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes."Yeah, I'm just going to let walk up to my boss while you're packing an arsenal. Back. Off. He's not in the mood for a chat, Allie."

"My name is Ashley," the alliance marine growled.

"Don't give two shits what your name is, Allie. _Go away._"

"Do you know what he did? He took a soldier's body away from a grieving husband! I know for a fact that the USMC treat their honored dead better than that! And you're going to let him get away with it?"

"Our honored dead are just that, _honored_. They were real soldiers, not a bunch of a swimsuit models who were fooled into thinking they were cut out for war through VR sims and gene mods! You, Bhatia and the rest of you gun toting wannabes haven't been through even a tenth of what I've been through. I lost comrades to _monsters_! Your dead were done in by a bunch of _robots_. They aren't even _close_ to being honored! "

Williams drew back her fist and hurled it towards Jane's face. Before it could land, a cold black hand, hard as steel, seized Williams' fist and stopped it halfway to its intended destination.

"Play. Nice." commanded the tall man in the brown leather coat.

**~[h+]~**

"Let me go, right now you cog piece of- ah!" Jensen squeezed her hand harder before Ashley could finish.

"You really didn't want to finish that sentence. And you," Adam turned to the bodyguard, who had a hand on her knife, ready to be drawn. "Hands off the knife."

"Says who?" challenged the US marine.

Adam parted his coat with his free hand, revealing the badge on his belt. "Says the police." The woman complied, and Jensen let go of Williams' fist.

"Detective Adam Jensen. I have a few questions for your boss.

"He's right this way," answered the bodyguard. She motioned to man behind her, sitting on a plastic couch with a datapad on one hand and a glass of whiskey on the other.

Williams was indignant. "You stonewall me but you let _him_ through?!"

The bodyguard shrugged. "You don't have a badge, Allie."

Jensen approached the man in the long black leather coat and cleared his throat, getting his attention. The man was looking intently at the scan of a human's brain. Adam cleared his throat again.

"I heard you the first time," responded the DARPA chief. He turned off the datapad and put in in his coat's inner pocket and took another sip of his drink. "You know, you really shouldn't have interfered."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"That argument was shaping up to turn into some fine girl-on-girl action!" he smiled. "I have to _pay _for a show like that anywhere else!"

"This isn't the red light district."

"I know, and yet...everyone around us were just staring at the whole thing, secretly hoping things would turn violent. I don't blame them: The Presidium has got to be the most boring place in the galaxy, _ever!_"

"We had a riot in Upper Zakera a while back, maybe that's more your speed?"

Hein looked up, as if considering the idea. "Hm, I think I'll pass. Although..." the man put his drink on his chair's armrest and he rose from his seat, standing tall in front of the C-Sec officer. "I heard _you_ had a little something to do with that bit of excitement, Mister Jensen..." He held out his hand. "Colonel Edgar Hein, United States Marine Corps and head of the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency."

Adam shook Hein's hand. "I'm here for Samesh. Is there a reason why you're withholding his wife's body?"

"Ah, that. Did Bosker explain anything to you?"

"No, I was sidetracked by the girl-on-girl."

Hein smirked at that. "Well, Nirali Bhatia's body is one of the few mostly intact subjects Alliance R&D has managed to find. The rest of the dead on Eden Prime were either burned to a crisp or turned into cyborg zombies. Alliance R&D has its hands full trying to figure out the zombie part. The burned to a crisp part is pretty obvious: flamethrowers. But Bhatia?...Bhatia was shot to death with a Geth Pulse weapon, and we haven't been able to figure out how those work or exactly what they shoot. Bullets? Plasma? Particles? Bhatia's body may provide the answer and in the answer lies a defense. And it's my job to figure those out."

"Couldn't you have explained that to Bhatia? I'm sure he would have understood if it was for the greater good."

Hein laughed. "It wasn't _my_ job to explain, it was Bosker's! But that boy just couldn't resist being all..." he waved his fingers."...seeeeeecretiive, ooooOOOooooh... Then again, I doubt any grieving husband wants to hear that his wife's dead body is going to be used for experiments, though. Not sure I get it, either. The brain's gone completely cold, and the person that she was..." for a brief instant Adam thought he could pick up a hint of...sorrow? In the man's voice? But it was gone so fast it might as well have not been there. "...is gone. All that's left is a mass of tissue."

"Wouldn't a Geth weapon be a more appropriate for research? Shoot a pig with one, and Nirali Bhatia's body becomes redundant."

"Who do you think you're talking to, here? We tried that: those guns we recovered don't work. Can't figure out why, and believe me, we tried to make them work. Bhatia's body is the only viable sample we've got. I'm sorry but there's simply no compromise to be had here. Mister Bhatia wants his wife back? Too bad. The lives of thousands of Williams' fellow marine depends on DARPA keeping that body."

Williams, who had overheard him was furious. "You soulless, unfeeling asshole!"

"I prefer to think of myself as more of a jerk."

"I am NOT leaving without Bhatia's body!"

"...Riiight, because I have it right here in my left pocket. You're going to be here a while."

Adam took control of the situation. "Both of you, quiet!" He considered his options, but it looked like the only way he could prevent even more violence is to arrest her, but Adam really, really didn't want to deal with the Alliance right now. And then there was Samesh... There had to be a way for everyone to come out on top.

"Williams. How is Zorah doing?"

"Now is not the time for-"

"Just answer the question."

"...She's fine. Last I checked she was conscious." She left out the part where the quarian girl had been asking about the 'man in blue'.

Hein raised an eyebrow. "You're going somewhere with this, aren't you?"

"Tali'Zorah was the one that extracted the evidence against Saren from a Geth data core," answered Adam.

"Ah...the quarian pilgrim. Definitely a cut above her species: Geth data cores wipe themselves once the body has been compromised. But I was under the impression she had moved on with her pilgrimage?"

"She's recovering on the Normandy. If anyone has a shot at making those Geth weapons work, it's her. If she gives you a working Geth weapon, you can let Bhatia come home."

Hein scratched his chin. "...And I could definitely use some of that famed Quarian wizardry on the Durendal. Mister Jensen, I think you've got yourself a deal." He held out his hand.

"Hold on, I don't speak for Zorah. You'll have to cut a deal with her personally."

"Oh. Shouldn't be too hard," he leaned in close, conspiring. "Those Quarians would work for a bag of peanuts!"

Adam said nothing and simply frowned at him. Hein backpedaled and put his hands up defensively. "Kidding! I'll have a fair contract written up for her, and that's a promise. Do I look like some Coalition Commie to you? I'm a UNAS capitalist, Jensen! I'm _all about_ fair wage labour! Miss Williams, take me to the Normandy! Mister Jensen has..."

As the Colonel made his way out of the embassy lounge with his bodyguard and Williams in tow, Adam sighed with relief. He may not be quite done dealing with the Alliance, but he hoped that was the last time he'd have to deal with Edgar Hein.

**~[h+]~**

"Well, it's about _time,_" Walker said to Jensen as he approached. She had been waiting next to the door leading to C-Sec Academy's Requisitions Office. She apparently wasn't allowed in there without the supervision of a C-Sec officer, and when she had tried to get several random officers to help her out, they had all replied they had business to attend to and could not afford to be sidetracked. If only _all_ C-Sec officers were like that...

"It's twenty minutes on foot from here to the embassies." answered Adam as he put his badge on the door's scanner. "I was five minutes behind you. You couldn't wait five minutes?"

"I took a cab to get here," she countered, annoyed.

"Again, twenty lousy minutes on foot."

"...Let's just get my gear."

The C-Sec requisitions office at first looked like a small empty room, with only a brown turian with white markings at his desk inside of it. Behind the turian, however, was a wall of reinforced glass, and beyond it was a large warehouse filled with lockers and shelves full of mostly civilian-grade weapons and miscellaneous equipment. The turian looked up from his laptop and greeted Adam immediately.

"Jensen! Huh. I hardly ever see you down here."

"It's not like I wasn't expected."

"Right you are, Pallin did say you were coming." He nodded at Walker. "And this must be the Alliance Intel agent.

"Sarah Walker. A pleasure. I believe you have something for me?"

"I have something for you both as a matter of fact, but first, hold on a moment."

The clerk pushed a few buttons on his laptop and began a background check. He was done in less than a minute.

"Alright, the both of you check out. Sorry about that, Adam, procedures have to be followed." He withdrew a small strongbox from beneath his desk and opened it. Inside of it was a black shoulder holster, a long handgun, a spare ammo block, a box of 10mm concussion rounds, and a shield emitter meant to be mounted on the belt. "The Murphy Arms Cerebus mark IV medium pistol. Better punch than your old Mk.23. Has single and three-shot burst firing modes and comes with an under-slung low-power coilgun for specialized ammo pre-installed."

Adam whistled. "How many Requisition Points is that gonna cost me?"

"Not a damned thing. Pallin wanted you to have extra firepower. He seemed to think you'll be needing it."

Adam took the contents of the box. While he was busy putting on the shoulder holster and shield, the clerk withdrew another box. Inside it was a Logic Arrest mk III Omni Tool, a shield, and a Elanus Risk Control Series 500 light pistol. "And this is for you, Agent Walker. Standard gear for a C-Sec detective. Omni-Tool comes with a Venator '86 software suite."

Walker took everything except the Omni-Tool. "No need for the Logic Arrest. I've got a Nexus mark VI."

The turian shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you need anything extra or better, let me know. We've got quite a bit of surplus for sale. Speaking of which, Jensen? You've built up quite a score of points over the years. Five thousand RPs, enough to outfit a Special Response squad. Sure you don't want to spend some?"

"Did any human hardsuits come in?" asked Adam.

The clerk shook his head. "No, sorry. We're actually all kinda strapped for hardsuits. All I could give Garrus was an Agent mk I with a kinetic buffer mod in exchange for that stripped down Phantom...Damned budget cuts."

After putting on his gear, Adam spent points on a new stunner and some medi-gel. Walker traded in the light pistol for a Kessler VI, a telescopic baton, and a brown synthetic leather leg bag, as her outfit didn't have a whole lot of storage room. Thus outfitted, the pair left the requisitions office, ready to start the investigation. They were at a transit terminal, and Jensen summoned an X3m cab.

"So," asked Adam. "Where to?"

"From what I've read from your files, you've got three leads, and the best of them is tracking down that Alliance surplus gear the killer had been using."

"I'll set the destination for Decanus Ordo's store. Apparently he's the only one on the Citadel with a license to sell Alliance gear. Speaking of gear, you're certain you don't want to purchase a hardsuit? I'm sure requisitions has got an Asari suit that'll..." he looked at Sarah, from head to toe. "...fit?"

"I think I'll save my money, thanks. Besides, what are the odds of us getting caught up in a firefight?"

**~[h+]~**

**Three hours later...**

The Blue Suns rifleman squad had Adam and Sarah pinned down with controlled bursts from their Avenger assault rifles. Adam spotted a trio of shotgun wielding mercs trying to flank them. Jensen pulled out Sasha, took aim, and shot one of them in the groin. He went down screaming. The assault squad took cover, and the riflemen went full auto. It wouldn't be long before that crate of dirt Adam and Sarah were using as cover couldn't soak in the bullets anymore.

Jensen threw a dirty look at Walker. "Remember what you said at the academy?" he shouted over the noise of gunfire. "I'd say that answers your question!"

**~[h+]~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Sasha' apparently means "defender" and "helper of humanity". There's also a sword in the Final Fantasy series called Defender, so that's a nice little unintentional and stealthy shout-out.
> 
> Sorry if that hasn't quite fulfilled the quota of investigation and shooting I promised. I'll remedy that in the next chapter.
> 
> Adam's outfit in this chapter is pretty much Aidan Pierce's from Watch_Dogs. I was really looking forward to that game at the time of writing, but it turned out kinda meh. Still, Pierce's outfit was pretty cool.


	14. Too Close To The Sun

"What's taking so long?!" shouted Fade over a loudspeaker, his frustrated voice echoing throughout the warehouse "It's just Jensen and some bimbo! You have them outnumbered and outgunned! Fucking kill them already!"

Adam recognized the voice instantly. It was Harkin's! Apparently, the bastard had not left the Citadel and had reinvented himself quite successfully as a racketeer. Now, Adam was doubly motivated to get through this shootout and bring 'Fade' in for questioning. All he had to do was neutralize the six remaining Blue Suns mercs shooting at him and Walker.

Well, five, now that Walker killed one of the riflemen with a quick Overload/headshot combo, or the one-two punch (as Garrus liked to call it). She pulled it off very well, but Jensen didn't have time to be impressed. He had a score to settle with Harkin. With five mercs remaining, he had no time to waste.

He activated his Cloak.

**~[h+]~**

From where Harkin was standing, things didn't look good. He couldn't see the firefight from the manager's office, despite said office overlooking the entire warehouse's interior. The many, many crates of goods both legal and not so legal formed a maze of walls that blocked the main entrance from Harkin's view. The audio coming through Alpha Squad's channel painted a good enough picture for the racketeer.

Shit was hitting the fan hard.

_"Where did he go, _ **where did he go?!"**

_"Relax, I packed an EMP grenade just in- urrkh!"_

_"Thelon? THELON!"_

_"He's down!"_

_"He's got Thelon's shotgun he's got a shotg-_

Harkin heard a shotgun blast over the Blue Suns comm channel.

"-ARRRRRGH MY KNEE! MY GODDAMNED KNEE!"

"My assault team is down! Harkin! Send out Alpha Squad! send out the mechs! SEND OUT EVERYTHI-"

This time there was a loud bang, a sound Harkin easily recognized as a 10mm concussion round's blast. Potent stuff, and that meant Beta squad was down for the count. Besides Harkin stood the leader of Alpha Squad, some turian whose name Harkin didn't care to remember.

"Send out the mechs." he ordered.

"I did it already!" answered Harkin. "I figured Beta would hold on long enough for the LOKIs to shamble their way to them!"

"Hahne-Kedar LOKIs?! I told you to buy mechs from Kerberos!"

"Right, because I'm made out of solid money! Kerberos ain't cheap! Look, the LOKIs have a excellent sensor packages and I got a Quarian wiz to rework their combat subroutines so that they can use assault rifles! They'll spot him and shoot him dead! Watch and see!" Harkin turned his laptop on and brought up the status windows for sixteen mechs, complete with a live video feed of their head mounted cams. They had switched their vision to catch the electromagnetic spectrum, a security feature Hahne-Kedar added to the LOKI line of security mechs in order to sniff out cloakers. The mechs spread out over the warehouse floor, seeking out any intruders. One of them encountered glowing, semi transparent figure and woman shaped shadow, and then its live feed went dark after a combination of an Overload attack and a shotgun blast took it down. The other LOKIs reported to the fallen mech's last known location, and the first six to get there fed nothing but static to the laptop's holoscreen.

"Thelon's EMP grenade," said the squad leader. "Alpha Squad! We're going in! We got two hostiles approaching fast! You!" He pointed at Harkin. "Just in case, wipe the hard drives, leave nothing that could lead back to Santiago! As far as C-Sec is concerned, we're just a bunch of guns _you_ hired."

"You _were_ a bunch of guns I hired," Harkin said bitterly," until Santiago decided he wanted a cut out of _my_ operation, here!" The squad leader, however, wasn't interested in his complaining, and ordered one of his junior mercs, a young human, to stay behind and keep an eye on him. Just as the rest of Alpha Squad moved out, two other mechs went down. Harkin quickly got to work, pulling hard drives out of his PC and a small EMP generator cobbled together from spare parts out of a footlocker. He switched it on, and hovered it above the drives.

"Wouldn't it be simpler to set them on fire?" asked the Blue Suns rookie. "I got Incinerate on my Omni-Tool..."

"You' got a spare helmet? I don't want to breathe in toxic fumes!"

Just then, the turian squad leader shouted over the comms. "THE MECHS ARE SHOOTING AT US! HARKIN, YOU TREACHEROUS SHIT!"

Harkin's eyes widened in shock and he turned his gaze on the laptop: there was nothing but error messages on the holo-screen. _There's no way Adam could crack the encryption on the command and control, _thought Harkin._ not that quickly, not while he's being shot at! The man still had problem figuring out his Omni-Tool when I last saw him!_

Adam peeked out of his cover, and to his surprise, the LOKI mechs started shooting at the Blue Suns Squad that had just come out and took cover near the metal stairwell that led to the manager's office. He turned to Sarah, who had her Omni-Tool on, her eyes darting across several walls of encrypted text.

"Are you doing this?" he asked her.

"Well yes," she answered, slightly annoyed. "_Obviously. _Now, I'll just set the Loki's to aim for their heads and..."

"No."

"...What?"

"Harkin's a dirty little coward. These mercs are his security blanket. If they're gone, he'll run. Keep them suppressed."

"I'm sure you can chase him down if he runs!"

"Not if he's got a getaway vehicle ready! Every second counts in a chase!"

"Well, they're blocking the only way into the office. Unless you can jump three stories high, we're going to have to take care of them!"

Jensen looked up at the office. He couldn't quite jump that high, unfortunately. He turned on his smart vision: Harkin was in there, holding a device over a stack of data drives. He only had one Blue Suns guarding him.

"Theoretically," said Sarah. "How high could you throw a seventy-kilo person if you put your whole body into it?"

"Theoretically...Three stories high. Are you suggesting...?"

"I am SO going to regret this, but..." she sighed. "Give me a boost."

**~[h+]~**

The window cracked and fractured under a burst of three shots, and it exploded under the strain of an omni-shield held by a flying six foot tall blonde woman. She rolled and landed gracefully, and Harkin just stared at her in shock. His guard, new but nevertheless trained to think fast, seized Harkin's EMP Generator and threw it at the woman. The Omni-Shield's glow flickered and died under an onslaught of arcs and sparks, and the hardened gel held together by the Omni-Tool's Mass Effect field fell to the ground. The guard followed up with a burst from his Avenger, but he only had time to fire off three shots into her shields before she ran up to him and kicked the gun out of his grip. He activated the Omni-Blade on his left arm, she answered by withdrawing her telescopic baton, and the two were caught in a melee: She was far too quick to be gutted by the Omni-Blade, and he was well too armored to be knocked out by her baton strikes.

At least, not immediately.

"Oof! Harkin!" shouted the merc. "Get out of here, I'll hold her off!"

And Harkin bolted for the backdoor.

**~[h+]~**

Sarah hadn't expected the EMP generator. Thankfully it only shorted out her Omni-Tool, but it also disabled her Kessler pistol, which didn't leave her with a lot of options for dealing with a fully armored merc besides wailing on his flexible neck seal with her baton whilst evading his Omni-blade strikes. Unfortunately, it took half a minute before she had an opportunity to take the merc down, and Harkin had already escaped. She had failed to capture him.

Sarah didn't like to fail.

The merc stabbed at her, and she swept his blade away with a baton strike, along with his arm, opening up his guard and exposing his chest. She kicked him hard in the groin, and as he doubled over in pain she followed it up by slamming both her fist in the back of his head, which met the ground very, very quickly. Even with his helmet on, the trauma to his head was too much, and he lost consciousness.

Before she could savor her victory, Jensen burst through the door. He had apparently already taken care of the remaining Blue Suns downstairs in the time it took her to defeat her opponent. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that.

"Where's Harkin?!" he demanded. Sarah merely motioned to the open back door that led to a fire escape outside, and Jensen became a blur.

**~[h+]~**

Harkin smiled as his aircar finally started up. He would get away, and there was nothing Jensen could do to stop it. He was home free. But just as the car took off the glass on the driver's door exploded and a black hand seized Harkin and pulled him out of the car. He soon found himself face to face with Jensen, his old partner, who was fixing him with a cold, metallic stare.

"Adam! Long time no s-" Harkin couldn't finish his sentence as Jensen slammed him against the car. He lifted Harkin by the collar, bringing him face to face again.

"There is a two bit pimp out there..." said Jensen, his voice cold. "...who is sunbathing on the beaches of Illium, sipping some fruity drink, smug in the knowledge that no one can put him behind bars."

Jensen slammed Harkin's head against the car door.

"There were twelve dead bodies in that protein vat. TWELVE. Twelve girls with holes in their bodies because Big Tim didn't want them to talk."

Harkin's face met one of the rear door's window, breaking it into pieces. Amazingly, he didn't lose consciousness.

"Twelve girls that will NEVER come home because some dirty cop decided that the ONE thing that could have put Big Tim away for good before he could touch them would be better off in his own pocket!"

And then Harkin was thrown away like a rag doll, and his whole body landed on the asphalt. He tried to crawl away, but it was so hard to stay conscious...

"P-Please...please don't kill me!" he begged, weakly.

Adam approached, menacingly. "A thousand platinum on the black market. Was it worth it, Harkin?"

"I can... I can give you Santiago! Head of the Blue Suns, whole gang of scumbags! You'll be a hero!"

Adam's blades sprang from his arms. "I don't care about Santiago. Was it worth it, Harkin?"

"I can give you Big Tim! He couldn't stay out of the business! Couldn't help himself! He's running drugs all the way from Omega! Just, just let me go!"

Adam rose his right arm, ready to strike Harkin and end his miserable life. "Was it worth it, Harkin?!"

"No! Please! PLEASE!"

"JENSEN!" Sarah shouted, and Adam felt of cold metal of the Kessler's barrel on the back of his head. "Don't."

Jensen said nothing.

"He can't point us to Shepard's killer if he's dead."

Jensen said nothing. In the distance, the sound of C-Sec's sirens could be heard. The cavalry had finally arrived, if a little too late.

"And you're going to have a hard time explaining lethal force on a man who's obviously not a threat." reasoned Sarah. "Let it go."

Jensen closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and retracted his blades. "Wilbur Harkin, you're under arrest for fleeing C-Sec custody, possession of controlled substances, attempting to kill a C-Sec officer, and conspiracy to murder Junko Zayne Shepard."

Harkin's relief gave way to disbelief as he heard that last one. "What?! I didn't kill nobody!"

"Maybe not," said Sarah as she discarded her useless Kessler, "but you did provide the murder weapon to the person who did. One of your duct rats bought the very knife that ended Shepard's life from Ordo's store. When we interrogated the boy, he said he gave you the blade."

"You're lucky you look nothing like the killer." said Jensen as he flash cuffed Harkin. "Otherwise you would be our prime suspect."

**~[h+]~**

In one of C-Sec Academy's interrogation rooms, Harkin was sitting opposite the blonde woman that had smashed her way into his office. He honestly hadn't expected her to survive going hand to hand with a Blue Suns merc with a stick and a fancy catsuit for protection, but there she was. She had politely introduced herself as Agent Sarah Walker, and when she said she was with Alliance Intelligence, Harkin knew he was royally fucked.

"Do you know why you're here, mister Harkin?" asked Walker.

Harkin didn't even feel the need to be a smart ass and said nothing.

"Besides smuggling weapons, illegal substances, you had a part..." She typed something on her Omni-Tool (a second hand Logic Arrest I) and it conjured a holograph of a dead, raven haired amazon of a woman with a knife in her chest. Walker had the image hover a few inches from his face, for emphasis. "...in this."

"I told you, I had nothing to do with that."

"The murder weapon-"

"-I sold a lot of weapons to a lot of people, dammit! I didn't conspire with anyone to off anybody! If that's all you got..."

Walker typed into her Omni-Tool again, and an audio clip played.

_"...Fade here. What do you want, Fist?"_

_"I got a contact with a big grocery list of stuff he needs. He pays only in Platinum and he wants no paper trail and no questions asked. Interested?"_

_"Platinum, huh? How much coin are we talking about, here?"_

_"He paid me 2000 for some info. Didn't even try to haggle me down."._

_"Really? If the coin's so good how come you're not taking up the job?"_

_"I'm...kind of busy with other stuff and I got Chellick on my ass. Figured you could use the coin."_

_"Send me the list...huh. Authentic C-Sec uniform, iron-rich Omni-Gel, gun oil, Omni-Bench, black Gucci suit, red silk tie... Pricey, but not exactly illegal shit there, Fist."_

_"Keep reading."_

_"...whoa, that's a lot of toxins. What does he need that shit for?"_

_"I honestly didn't ask. If you're smart you won't ask him either...Man gives me the creeps."_

_"Alright, alright. I'll take the job."_

Walker shut off her Omni-Tool and smiled. "I'm afraid Fist wasn't quite so thorough in erasing his drives as you were, Mister Harkin."

Harkin muttered to himself. "Goddamned obsessive compulsive zyme snorting prick!"

"That audio file was timestamped 23/10/2179. Shortly after that message was recorded, C-Sec Chief Constable Laelius was found dead in his office, having been injected with a lethal cocktail of toxins you provided. Other deaths followed, with the seven C-Sec Detectives working on the Clemens Case dead, and Fist had gathered detailed intel on each and every one of them. I've got quite a few more conversations between you and Fist concerning your mutual 'client'. You two were providing logistical support for an _assassin.._"

Walker waited for Harkin to say something, but he was silent. Sarah continued: "Assassins tend to dislike loose ends, Mister Harkin. I'm almost certain news of your arrest will reach him very soon, if he doesn't know already. We're willing to provide you with protection, but-"

And then Harkin started laughing and laughing, almost maniacally. His laughter subsided after a while, and he spoke: "There's no protecting me."

"If we apprehend him before he strikes, then you won't have worry about him."

Harkin just laughed some more. "You don't know what he's capable of. But most importantly of all, you don't know who his masters are. I do. I got curious, see? Started wondering where all that shiny platinum came from, because man!...he had the stuff in spades. I started asking questions, and they came looking for me."

"Who?"

"...Men. No...Ghosts. Ghosts in black suits. Ghosts that knew everything about me, knew every crime I committed and every thought I ever had...And they showed me things..." he began to sob. "Horrible things. Things that they did to others, and they promised that they would do worse, so much worse to me if I ever betrayed them. I've given their agent a good enough reason to just kill me. I won't give him a reason to bring me back _alive._"

And then, Harkin said absolutely nothing. Walker had tried to get him to open up for ten whole minutes, but it was no use. He was simply too afraid to talk.

**~[h+]~**

Jensen and Pallin walked out of their side of the interrogation room and in the hallway, having watched Agent Walker interview Harkin from behind the one way mirror.

"Well," said Pallin. "That was slightly ominous. What do you think, Jensen? Is he bluffing?"

"No. He's definitely scared, I can tell."

Pallin groaned inwardly. "It looks as though there's more to this case than meets the eye. I really shouldn't have been all that surprised considering Shepard's importance. Can you think of any organization that would want Shepard dead?"

"Off the top of my head? None. I'd need to have a better look at Shepard's past before I could even make a guess."

"I can help with that," said Walker as she closed the door to the interrogation room behind her. "Her personal effects are still on the Normandy. I can have them brought here, if you like."

"Make it so," answered Pallin. "Also, I'll have Garrus join you on your investigation. If our killer is the one behind the deaths centered around the Clemens case, then I want your partner watching you back."

Adam nodded. "I remember Laelius. First time I heard about this Clemens case, though."

"Lemuel Clemens was suspected to be behind a series of murders. Sadly, he is also the son of a Terran element zero tycoon. His army of lawyers kept him out of jail for months. Laelius led a task force to find solid evidence to bring him to justice, but..." Pallin shook his head and sighed. "I lost a lot of good men, and Clemens is still at large."

"They must have found something, like Harkin did."

"Hm...well, speaking of Harkin - I'm disappointed in you, Agent Walker. The AIA is renowned to have interrogation techniques that rival the STG. Harkin clams up in fear and you give up?"

"Oh I'm not done." she crossed her arms. "I've yet to use my feminine wiles on him."

Jensen rose an eyebrow. "What's stopping you? Perfume wore out?"

"No, I just find that the promise of physical comfort works best after a few days of isolation, sleep deprivation, malnutrition and despair." She said this so casually it actually made Jensen's skin crawl a little. "Make sure you put him in solitary confinement, tell his guard to keep him awake, and give him quarter rations, won't you?"

"No," Pallin answered tersely. "C-Sec does not condone torture that kind of torture"

"Well then I apologize, but my hands are tied. What do you think, Jensen? Maybe another _concussion_ will get him to open up?"

"Maybe it will." Adam turned to Pallin. "Want me to have a chat with him?"

"Later, maybe, when he's not staring off into the void. In the meantime I want you and Walker to go and pick up Shepard's effects, see if there's anything linking her and those...'spirit' men Harkin spoke of."

"I'm...not exactly welcome on Alliance turf, Pallin."

"I can do it by myself, Executor." Sarah offered quickly. Pallin quirked his eyebrow at this, but didn't press the matter.

"Alright then. Jensen, go and fetch Garrus from Hypatia Primary School in the meantime. He's not answering his phone, but his hardsuit's still transmitting his lifesigns there. Deal with whatever it is that's holding him up, won't you?"

"Yes sir."

"Dismissed."

**~[h+]~**

The last bell had rung half and hour ago, and hundreds of asari children were playing in the courtyard, waiting for their parents to come and pick them up. Adam found Garrus by the main entrance sitting on a bench, speaking to a very, very apologetic teacher. A very attractive apologetic teacher. He smirked inwardly as he approached, and he noticed Garrus was nursing his right arm. He turned on his Smart-Vision, and saw that it was dislocated. Before he greeted his partner, Jensen sneaked up behind him, grabbed his arm, and 'gently' snapped it back into place.

"HAAAAAAAllloo Jensen! It's..." Garrus clenched his teeth. "Good to see you. Ow."

"Good to see you too, Vakarian. What happened to your arm?"

"He..." said the teacher. "He fell on it when my students threw him out of a window. I'm so sorry!"

Adam smiled. "And you didn't bother getting some medical aid?"

"I insisted on it! But he said his suit's medical suit would kick in any minute!"

"...Medical suite on an Agent mk 1, eh?" Adam said aloud, and Garrus simply winked. "I think I got it from here, miss."

The asari teacher excused herself, apologized for her students' behaviour (again) and went back into the school. Garrus sighed as he watched her disappear into the building. Jensen sat down next to him. "So. Throwing a big sulk? Pallin's been trying to contact you."

"Well, here I was stewing with my own hate and plotting to murder Pallin when that teacher came along and started picking glass out of my quills. She's got very, very soft hands and..."

"...And she doesn't know what touching a Turian's quills means, does she?"

"Nope!" Garrus laughed a little sheepishly. "I was just about to tell her the story about how i got that scar on the back of my head. You know the ladies love that one..."

"I know the one, but let me stop you right there. Duty calls, Vakarian. It's serious: we think the killer is behind the deaths of Laelius and his task force and Pallin wants us together on this case."

Garrus' face hardened. "We're going after a cop killer."

"Yeah."

"Alright, let's-"

Before either of them could make their way back to the X3M cab, and asari and a human woman approached them hurriedly. They looked scared. "Excuse me!" called out the Asari to Garrus. "Officer! We need your help!"

Garrus rose from his bench, ignoring the pain from his arm. "What's the matter?"

"Our daughter's wandered off!" cried the human. "We were talking to her teacher and...and she was there one minute a-and then she wasn't oh god oh god where is she-"

Adam attempted to calm her down. "Miss, calm down and start again from the beginning, please..."

**~[h+]~**

Not even 5 minutes later, Jensen found little Charon "I've found her," he said into his Omni-Tool. "Call off the alert."

_"Will do."_ Garrus answered back. _"Where is she?"_

"Construction yard on fifth and Circe Street. She's safe."

_"Not even a hundred meters away...Well, there's our good deed for the day. Make sure she stays there, I'm bringing the parents over."_

"Got it. Charon Hennessy!" Jensen called out the little asari. "Stay right where you are!"

To her credit, she didn't try to run as Jensen approached her. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." At this, Jensen pulled out his badge and showed it to her.

"I'm with the police, dear."

"...Am I in trouble?"

He knelt down in front of her. "You are a bit. Your parents are worried sick about you."

"Oh."

"I'm just going to stay here with you and make sure you don't get in any more trouble while your parents get here and take you home, Okay?"

"Okay."

"Now Charon, what possessed you to wander off like that?"

"...I was curious."

"About what?"

"A pretty lady told me to give a note to a sad man."

"I thought you weren't supposed to talk to strangers, Charon."

"I didn't talk to her! I just...nodded and did as she said."

Adam chuckled a bit. Ah, kids. "So you gave a note to the sad man, and then..."

"And then he followed the pretty lady in there." She pointed at the entrance of an abandoned tunnel complex. Various signs in various languages warned people away. The place was apparently not stable. "I was curious about them, I wanted to know what they were up to...But that place is dark and scary and I didn't want to follow them any more."

"Smart girl."

"Why would a man and a lady go in there?"

Adam rolled his eyes behind his shades. Some couple having a tryst, most likely. He'd probably have to go in there and get them out.

"Well, sometimes adults want their privacy...and they look for it in adventurous places."

Charon furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"You'll...understand when you're older, sweetie."

"My moms say that all the time! I'm smart enough to understand now!"

"Of course you are, but-"

"...aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH !" the horrible scream echoed out from the dark entrance, and Charon whimpered and wrapped her arms around Jensen's neck.

"What in the hells was that?!" exclaimed Garrus from behind them. The parents rushed to Jensen, and he passed Charon to their waiting arms.

"Get out of here, right now!" Adam commanded. "Vakarian, I think we've got a Black Widow on our hands. Call for backup: we're going in."

"Roger that." Vakarian pulled out his Mongoose and activated his Omni-Tool. "This is Detective Vakarian to dispatch we might have a 187 at Fifth and Circe, repeat, we may have a 187..."

Adam pulled out Sasha, and Garrus followed him into the darkness...

**~[h+]~**

"Man, it's dark in here." said Vakarian as he activated his Omni-Tool's lantern, ruining Jensen's night vision. Adam switched his eyes to normal mode and activated his own lantern, and immediately regretted it: It somehow made everything that much more creepy as the lanterns didn't illuminate things past 5 meters in front of them, and as Adam and Garrus walked further and further into the underground's tunnels the cement rubble seemed to appear spontaneously in front of them. Old animal instincts kicked in, and both Adam and Garrus were wary for any predator that lurked in the dark.

"What was that?!" murmured Garrus.

"What?"

"I thought I saw something move!"

"I got no movement on my Radar. Keep it together, Vakarian! If there's anything out there I'll know, alright?"

"Yeah..." Garrus took a deep breath. "Okay...I see something!"

"Vakarian..."

"No, no it's an Omni-Tool.

Some ten meters away down one of the tunnels, the orange light of an Omni-Tool gauntlet interface flickered on the ground. Jensen could hear static from its speaker. The two cops approached it carefully, and eventually their lanterns shed light on the body of a man, slumped against a wall splattered with blood. In its left palm was a ring of silver. Between his legs was his head, having been twisted off by a great force. It stared out accusingly at Jensen, it's expression forever frozen in a mixture of terror and sorrow. Jensen got closer still, and made out the face of Kaidan Alenko.

"Oh no," muttered Adam, horrified. "Oh god no..."

**~[h+]~**


	15. Revelations

_"Alenko here. Do you need me for something, captain?"_

_"No, I'm just checking up on you. You holding together, son?"_

_"...I'm hanging in there."_

_"Is that...I'm hearing children playing in the background?"_

_"Yeah, I'm at some primary school for Asari kids. Shepard and I saw this place once when we were exploring the Citadel a few years back. It got us thinking..."_

_"About starting a family?"_

_"Yeah," _Alenko sighed._ "What about you sir? You ever think about starting a family?"_

_"I did, once. Me and Sanders had been together for a while but.." _

_"What happened?_

_"She started burying herself in her work."_

_"..."_

_"Alenko?"_

_"...Me and Shepard, we stood here, imagining that we were picking up our child from school and listening to what he had learned that day on the way home. *Laugh* We argued about whether we'd have a boy or a girl first. But...now..."_

_"...Alenko, don't do this to yourself."_

_" *sob* S-She's really gone, isn't she? I kept thinking that this was some kind of horrible nightmare that I would wake up from...but this is real, isn't it?"_

_"I'm sorry, son. But yes. It's all too real."_

_"Are you okay, Mister?" _It was the voice of Charon Hennessy, distant and laced with static.

_"H-hold up, sir." _Kaidan sniffled. _"Oh, I'm alright, dear. Just...I just lost a friend."_

_"Did your friend go away?"_

_"...Yes, very far away, where I can't follow."_

_"Oh."_

_"Now, you know you shouldn't be talking to strangers, sweetie. Run along and go back to your parents, they must be worried."_

_"Someone told me to give you this."_

_"What is it?"_

_"It's a note. I think it's a note. It's wrapped around something..."_

There was the sound of crumpling paper. _"Wh...who gave this to you?"_

_"A pretty lady did."_

_"What was her name?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"What did she look like?"_

_"She was pale with black hair. She was really tall, taller than my mommies!...That's her, over there."_

_"...Oh my god."_

_"Mister? Mister..." _Charon's voice became more distant.

_"Sir, were you listening?"_

_"You could have put me on hold you know, but yes, I heard. What is going on?"_

_"I can't believe it, I can't be..."_

_"Alenko?"_

_"I...I have to make sure. I'll call you back."_

_"Alenko? Kaidan! Don't-"_

Anderson typed on his Omni-Tool, "I tried contacting him again, and he finally answered a few minutes later.

_"Alenko? Alenko!"_

_"...I'm here."_

_"Where are you? What's going on?"_

_"It's her...She's come back to m-" and then Alenko's voice morphed into static._

"There's nothing but static after this," said Anderson as he deactivated his Omni-Tool. Sitting across from him at the conference table was Agent Sarah Walker. Leaning against the wall behind her was Adam Jensen and Garrus Vakarian.

"Kaidan Alenko left his Omni-Tool's microphone on after you lost contact," stated Walker. "But as he got deeper into the abandoned underground complex interference from Snowblind particles jammed his transmissions. We've extracted a recording from his Omni-Tool's audio-buffers. We need you to listen to it amd confirm something for us."

"Keep in mind," warned Jensen. "You may find this disturbing."

"I'm no stranger to death, detective." Anderson motioned to Walker to play the audio clip. It began with distorted static, then:

_"-That's...not possible. It's not possible - I saw the body!"_

_"Shhh...come closer my love..."_

_"You're not her!"_ A warbling noise, the sound of a Biotic Warp attack being unleashed, came out of Sarah's Omni-Tool. "_GET AWAY FROM ME!" _Another distortion: the impact of the bolt landing on its mark. The dull thud of a body falling on the cement floor was heard then, followed by the hard breathing of Alenko and the beeping from his Omni-Tool as he no doubt tried to call for backup.

_"What the hell are you?...tch! Goddamned interference..." _

A turbine revved up, it's noise flanging and echoing within the tunnel, and then there was a hiss, like jet of steam. Whatever it was, it hit Kaidan, and he screamed in agony.

_"hehehaHHAHAHAhha...d-_**did**_ you think-_thiiiiink_? think that would d-d-do it, lover boy?! That was nothing! Nothi~ng!"_

_"Please, no..."_

_"Oh, my hea~art's about to burst w-w-with JOY. Come closer, _ **lover! I WANT TO MAKE YOU FEEL WHAT I FEEL.** _""_

_"Nooooo-!"_

What followed next was a disturbing cacophony of maniacal cackling, mingled with the gurgles of a man being strangled followed by a slow, wet, ripping and cracking noise. That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the panting that followed. It was almost...sexual, and it went on for minutes, occasionally interrupted by a...sucking noise.

_"...see s...thing!" _It was Garrus, barely coming in range of the Omni-Tool's microphone. At this, the killer snarled eagerly, almost gleeful at the prospect of another kill.

_"Vak...ian..." _said the recorded voice of Jensen. At this, the killer gasped.

_"No, no, it's an Omni-Tool!"_

_"...Oh no. Oh god no..."_

Walker stopped the audio file. "Captain Anderson...can you identify the other voice in the recording?"

"...It's Shepard's." He answered. "It was definitely Shepard's...What in the hell is going on here?!"

"I hate to admit it," answered Jensen. "But we're just as confused as you are. We checked our morgue: Shepard's body is still down there."

"As for what we know for sure..." added Vakarian as he read a datapad. "Kaidan's shoulder was pierced by a five millimeter wide particle stream - the 'turbine' noise we heard was the particle gun charging up. We're still waiting for the lab results on some samples we collected on the scene."

Something clicked inside Anderson's head. "Hein."

Vakarian was confused. "I'm sorry?"

Anderson rose from his chair and hissed Hein's name under his breath. He strode towards the exit.

Jensen stopped him. "Anderson! We're not finished here!"

"I know who did this!" Anderson snarled. "It was Hein!"

"Hein? As in Edgar Hein, the DARPA chief?"

"Yes! Him! Hein's been trying to sell the Alliance on his wasteful man-portable energy weapons for years! You heard the noise: the killer had one!"

"There's merchants aplenty on the Citadel," Adam countered. "Any one of them could have sold the killer a weapon."

"Not quite," corrected Walker as she walked up next to Adam. "Jensen, non-projectile weapons may have been more common in your time, but the discovery of mass effect technology has made kinetic weapons far more energy efficient, not to mention cheaper on a logistical level. Consequently, no organization in the galaxy is interested in wasting money on fielding energy-based small arms...though that doesn't seem to discourage Hein in the least."

"So," Anderson added, "there isn't a single merchant in the whole Citadel that carries them, except Hein! That smug bastard is involved in all this! He also had access to Shepard's body: I can't think of a better way to create a disguise than scanning a body and taking DNA samples! Can you?"

"That's...actually fairly plausible. But there's still the matter of motive: why would Hein help assassinate an Alliance Marine?"

"Perhaps the same reason as Harkin? Money?" Walker suggested.

"There's another angle," said Anderson. "Competition for Spectrehood. Hein had a candidate ready for the job within a day of Shepard's death!"

"What does that have to do with Alenko?" asked Adam, a bit skeptical.

"I don't know!...Maybe, maybe Alenko decided to launch his own investigation. Maybe he found something that connected Hein to Shepard's death."

"That's a lot of maybes," sighed Vakarian. Walker, on the other hand, was seriously considering Anderson's claims.

"Perhaps, " she said finally, "but the Spectre candidacy angle is something we can't ignore. We should bring him in for...a few questions."

Anderson smiled a bit "Just say the word, and I'll have my marines seize his ship and everything on it!"

Adam palmed his face: Anderson was running a little too hot, here. "Ander-"

_"Mister Anderson..." _AgentWalker interrupted with her voice smooth as silk as she put her hand on Anderson's shoulder. "I understand that your are angry and eager for retribution, but I think a more...subtle approach is required here. Whether or not Hein is involved in this case, a squad of marines barging into his vessel might cause a political incident and would get you no closer to finding Alenko's killer."

"If he's involved, your marines will spook him and make him run for Omega," added Garrus.

"And if he's innocent you'd have violated his rights for nothing," stated Adam. "I think it would be best if I just met with him and asked him a few questions. Who knows? He might even help with the investigation."

"And what if he flees at the sight of you cops anyway?" countered Anderson.

"I'm afraid he has a point, there," Walker tapped her chin. "Before we can...interview him, We'd have to put some distance between him, the Durendal, and the Deep Eyes."

"Do you have a plan that will do all that?" asked Jensen.

Walker smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do. But first, we're going to have a chat with Pallin."

**~[h+]~**

Dr. Aki Ross tapped the new member of the Durendal's crew on the shoulder, getting the young Quarian's girl attention away from the ship's drive core.

"Oh! Hello, doctor." Tali'Zorah pulled herself away from the control console and greeted the young raven-haired woman.

Ross gave her a good-natured smile. "Penny for your thoughts."

Tali'Zorah tilted her head and gave Aki a confused look. "...I don't know what that means."

"Oh! Sorry, it's a Terran English expression. I meant to ask you what's on your mind: You seemed quite focused on the ship's drive core."

"Well, it's quite impressive...although the fractured core is going to be a problem, but the six stabilizer prongs should allow us to maintain a stable FTL field. What's _really_ been bothering me are these glass cylinders..." Tali pointed at the six glowing green cylinders mounted around the Element Zero Core, like spokes on a wheel. "...I think those are supposed to be capacitors, but they look more like fuel tanks..."

"They're a little bit of both: those are the energy plants."

"But the ship already has plenty of power provided by the two fusion drives..."

"No, I mean, those are actual plants in there: plants, as in flora, floating in a nutrient gel. As you've said they function as capacitors, storing energy from the fusion drives for later use."

"Ah," said Tali, snapping her fingers. "I've read an article about these. Something about bio-engineered plants producing cells with mutated mites...no, i mean, mighty- no that's not right either..."

"Mitochondria."

"Yes! That's it! It's fascinating that Terran ships have integrated biological parts...But I'm not sure how much use to you I would be in fixing these, Biotech isn't really my area of expertise."

"Don't worry too much about it: maintaining the Durendal's biological parts -crew included- will be mostly my job. Still, if you'd like I can send you the files on the energy plants."

"I'd appreciate it." Tali activated her Omni-tool, a hand-me-down Bluewire Engineer Adams had given her. At the sight of it, Aki remembered that she had come to the engine room for a reason.

"Oh! That reminds me: Hein wanted you to have this." She produced an electronic bracelet from her pocket. "Everyone on the Durendal gets one: it's a Seiko Wrist Halo Omni-Tool."

Tali took the Omni Tool and she examined it. It was made of a fairly light silvery metal, and analog buttons had been cut into it, do doubt for some troubleshooting should the haptic interface glitch out. She put it on her left wrist, started it up and ran a few diagnostics: it reported a performance level comparable to a Nexus VIII. Impressive, for an Omni-Tool this compact.

"Oh my...And you're just giving this to me? Not even chief engineers on the Flotilla get something that good!" Well, they did, but they had to mod the hell out of them first.

"One of the perks of working for Hein." Aki answered with a smile. "Oh, and before i forget..." she pressed a button on Tali's new Wrist Halo, and a port opened up. Aki then produced a cartridge from her pocket and inserted it into the port.

"Omni-Gel cartridges. Less of a hassle to than refilling a Gel tank: just take it out and put a fresh one in."

"Hm...clips are a bit wasteful in the long run, but-"

Aki's own Wrist Halo beeped. She eyed the holographic call window. "It's Grey."

Tali's eyes beamed with hope. "Do you think he's found my people in Upper Zakera?"

"Let's find out. Fingers crossed?" She pressed the call button. "Aki here."

_"Grey here. What's going on with Hein? I called him earlier to report on the mission but he just said 'Not now, good things happening!' and hung up."_

"Hein got a call from C-Sec: apparently the Executor is interested in purchasing some of the Serpent assault carbines, along with a few other toys that might be useful to a law enforcement agency. His eyes lit up and he couldn't get the cargo out of the bay fast enough."

_"Looks like his perseverance paid off...although I do find C-Sec's sudden interest in the Serpent a little suspicious...is Jane with him?" _

"Of course. Someone had to push the cargo trolley."

Tali cleared her throat.

"Oh, Ms. Zorah is with me. Got an update for her?

_"Am I on speaker?"_

"You are."

_"Ms. Zorah..."_

Tali held her breath. Between being rescued, getting some free medical care and finally a job aboard an advanced (if quirky) Terran light cruiser, she suspected her good fortune had finally dried up. She fully expected Captain Grey to tell her Fyodor and Veetor were dead, their bodies trampled and mangled.

_"Mission Successful. Veetor and Fyodor are safe and sound, and we found two other quarians tagging along with them."_

Tali breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh Keelah. Thank you so much! I-I hope your men didn't get hurt!"

_"We're fine. Your friends were put under siege in one of the sewers' water pump rooms by a bunch of gangbangers. They were no match for us. Your friends needed some convincing, though: our gear spooked them a little. We're headed back: ETA thirty minutes."_

"Roger that, we'll leave a light on for you."

_"Thanks. Grey out."_

Aki closed the connection, but instead of dismissing her Halo's haptic interface she began to surf the extra-net for restaurants on the Citadel that deliver. "Are you hungry?" she asked Tali as she typed up an order. "I've got the most _maddening_ craving for sushi."

Tali politely refused. "I probably couldn't ingest that anyways. I'll be fine: Doctor Chakwas gave me some turian rations...which reminds me: do you have a clean room and an irradiator?"

"We've got both in the sickbay. Would you like me to show you how they work?"

"Of course!"

"Right this way then. Is it okay if we drop by hydroponics afterwards? I've got this side project on dextro..."

As the doctor's voice faded away and was cut off by the closing of the heavy doors that led into the main corridor, Jensen decloaked in the middle of the engine room. Satisfied that Zorah was being taken care of, he pulled a cable out of his Omni-Tool and plugged it into one of the four data ports in the back of his neck, connecting the wrist mounted computer to his Neural Hub and allowing Jensen to communicate with Walker and Vakarian sub-vocally.

_"This is Jensen. Walker? Vakarian? Can you hear me?"_

_"Loud and Clear," _answered Vakarian.

_"Five by five," _responded Walker. _"What's the situation?"_

_"I'm inside the drive core."_

_"You waited until you were right in the center of the ship before reporting in?"_ asked Sarah, almost accusingly.

_"Just checking on something. Any ideas as to where I should go next? This ship...this ship's pretty big."_

_"I take it you've been through the cargo bay already?"_

_"Yeah, the bay doors were wide open."_

_"See anything out of the ordinary? Or illegal, for that matter?"_

_"Nothing but cargo pods, gun lockers, a dozen dormant security mechs and a Copperhead gunship that's seen better days. Is Hein some kind of gun runner?"_

_"Well, with DARPA's resources tied up with the Zeus project, I wouldn't put it past Hein to try and earn a little extra income to fund some of his other projects."_

Jensen didn't bother asking what the Zeus project was. Probably some kind of death star. He noticed a map near the doors, no doubt to help orient the ship's new recruits. It only showed the cargo bay and engine room, but thankfully it was digital and interactive, and Jensen took still shots of each level and saved them on his Neural Hub.

_"Garrus here. Pallin's greeting Hein right now. I'll be communicating via text from now on, but I'll be listening in."_

_"Jensen,"_ continued Walker. _"My first stop would be Hein's personal quarters."_

_"Which would be where, exactly?"_

_"Well, if I were to have my own personal light cruiser I would definitely claim the captain's cabin. And if the US Space Navy's design philosophies applies to the Durendal, that should be on the top floor."_

Jensen doubled checked the map and confirmed Walker's guess. "Well, I don't have a better spot to go to. Might as well start from the top."

Getting to the top deck was, surprisingly, not that difficult. The ship, besides the occasional security bot and VI-controlled cameras, had little in the way of security, Or crew, for that matter. If he hadn't seen Tali'Zorah and Doctor Ross, Jensen would have sworn this was a ghost ship.

It was kind of creepy.

The Captain's Cabin was, unsurprisingly, quite secure, and Jensen was just about to begin hacking its keypad when some kind of scanner mounted on top of the door shone a faint beam of light all across his body.

_"Aw, shit."_

_"What?"_

_"I think I just got scanned."_

"...You. Idiot. _Well, so much for this little operation of ours. Get out of there."_

_"Wait, there's no alarm."_

_"It's a silent one, no doubt The security bots are probably converging on your location right now! Get out of there!"_

To Jensen's surprise, the Cabin's door simply opened, and Jensen still didn't detect anything remotely hostile converging on him on his radar.

"W-Welcome back." said a woman's computerized voice. Jensen couldn't believe his luck.

_"Huh."_

_"What is it?"_

_"The VI glitched and mistook me for Hein."_

_"...That's not...well, considering how unreliable older VIs can be, that's not impossible, but..."_

_"Yeah, I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth." _

Jensen entered the cabin, and whistled. It wasn't so much a cabin, not really: Hein had apparently taken over the entire observation deck and turned it into his own little penthouse suite, with glass partitions and an OLED floor and ceiling. Instead of decorating it with lavish furniture, however, Hein set up his quarters like a private museum. Various pieces of tech from different periods in earth's history sat encased in glass pedestals, and each pedestal was spread evenly throughout the room. Inside several vitrines were a multitude of tools, artifacts that came from as far back as the Renaissance. Jensen ignored all the museum pieces, and instead strode for the antique desk, no doubt Hein's workspace.

The desk was at the center of a maelstrom of debris. By the looks of things, Hein (or perhaps someone else with access to his office) had gone completely berserk at this very spot. Nearby pedestals had been toppled and had shattered on the floor. Papers - diagrams and blueprints, reports and letters- were spread out all around, having been torn from their binders. An antique leather office chair had been tossed through a glass partition nearby. A laptop had been crushed to pieces by the heel of a boot.

_"Well, I don't think I'll getting anything out of his computer."_

_"Why?"_ asked Walker.

_"It's broken into pieces."_

_"...Interesting. Do you think he was trying to hide something?"_

_"...I don't think so. It looks like he got into a fit of rage and took it out on everything within reach."_

_"Probably his Contact Syndrome acting up. Is there anything else of interest?"_

Adam examined the desk._ "I see a book titled 'Project Paragon', a postcard, a keycard and a note." Adam took the note and read it subvocally. "Tali, there's something I'd like you to work on in Special Projects. This card will give you access to it. The door code is 1540."_

_"Well, I think you've got your next objective, Jensen."_

_"Hold on, Hein went nuts over everything except this book and postcard. I think it might be relevant."_

_"Fine, have a look, but do hurry up. Garrus, is Hein done with his sales pitch?"_

_A moment later, a text message appeared on Jensen's HUD: _

**G: He just demonstrated the Serpent**

**G: very cool gun**

**G: showed off the overload mode**

**G: It's got that turbine noise, but there's no hiss.**

**G: He's got some other stuff here, though, lots of it**

**G: You've got at least another hour before we even start haggling**

**G: So keep looking**

_"Ask him if he's got anything small and concealable." _suggested Jensen._ "Remember, Alenko got taken by surprise and he didn't shout at the killer to put down her weapon, so that particle beam she used to wound him must have been pretty small."_

**G: Will do**

_"Jensen, link your eyes to your Omni-Tool's comm package," _commanded Walker._ "I might see something you miss."_

Jensen groaned inwardly, but complied, and he started examining the postcard. It was a photo of a young girl and a woman sitting on a beach, hugging and smiling at the camera. Jensen concluded it was a mother and her daughter, judging by their resemblance to each other. They both had milky pale skin and raven hair, the mother was in her mid to late thirties, the girl couldn't have been much older than fourteen. Written on the picture was "Lost without you'.

_"Did Hein have a family?"_ asked Jensen.

_"He...has no record of one. A mistress maybe?"_

Jensen flipped the postcard. "_No return address, just a Post box code addressed to a...Joshua Carpenter?"_

_"Odd. Did Hein steal this?"_

Jensen put the postcard down and examined the book. It was large and bound in leather, and the title had been written with a black marker. He opened it, and realized that it was a scrapbook. The first page had the picture of a woman in a hospital bed, happily cradling a baby in her arms. It was the same woman in the postcard, but younger. On the page next to that picture was the copy of a birth certificate for one Junko Zayne Shepard, Father: unknown, Mother: Hannah Shepard.

_"Walker, I think Anderson needs to see this. Is he with you?"_

_"We were going over Shepard's belongings together, actually. I'm putting up a holo of this now."_

Jensen continued to flip through the pages, and as he did he bore witness to the first fifteen years of Junko's life. There were yearbook photos, school test scores, and bits of digital paper streaming news text. She was a brilliant young girl, earning 1st place in every contest and event she got involved in, from Spelling Bee to Mathlete competitions. There were pictures immortalizing everything from birthdays to friendships.

Anderson's voice came over the comms. _"Hein... you goddamned _**stalker.**_"_

_"You think he had Alenko murdered out of jealousy?" _asked Walker.

Adam, however, wasn't completely convinced that was the case._ "Hold on, there's more," _he said as he continued flipping the pages. A piece of digital newspaper was stuck in the middle of the scrapbook: it detailed the horrible slaver attack on Mindoir - Shepard's home. One of the many pictures in the paper's digital slideshow was a picture of a young Shepard in complete and utter shock and despair, with a young Alliance soldier putting a blanket over her shoulders.

_"That's me,"_ said Anderson sadly. _"I found her in her mother's greenhouse. She had killed three pirates by herself with just a knife and her biotics...She was rocking back and forth, muttering 'Make them pay', over and over again...like a prayer. She kept saying that even as the photographer took that picture."_

_"What happened to her mother?"_

_"...Dead. Some batarian cultists offered up as a sacrifice along with another ninety-nine colonists...the_ bastards _made a run for it as soon as our dropships got into atmo."_

Jensen turned the page.

_"That's me and Shepard at her graduation from Grissom High. She joined up with the Alliance military soon after, and planned to go to OCS as soon as her Biotic implantation and training was done. Speaking of which, that's her in that other pic, holding up the V sign?"_

_"I see it. Got lots of bandages on her." Jensen turned the page._

_"Pre-Implantation Biotic evaluation scores." _said Walker_. "...above average numbers, very impressive for a biotic without an amp."_

_"Whoever wrote 'Not good enough' in red marker found her lacking, though." _said Jensen. The pages that followed the evaluation scores were blueprints for the L3 implants, with alterations done to them in pencil, as well as a paper on Red Sand and its Biotic enhancing properties and several articles on...Thessian cuisine?

_"Was Shepard a Red Sand user?"_

_"No!"_ snapped Anderson. _"Absolutely not!"_

_"...You know,"_ said Walker calmly, "s_tudying the effects of Red Sand and eezo-rich Asari food could have led to breakthroughs in enhancing biotic potential in humans, and then you have these modified L3 implants... It seems like Shepard was the only one to benefit, however."_

Jensen turned the page. Post implantation scores, these ones impressed Walker immensely - something about them being on par with an Asari matriarch.

Jensen turned the page again. There was nothing except the words WHERE DID YOU GO written across two pages in black marker.

_"Looks like Shepard vanished for a bit," _commented Jensen.

_"That's because she went to Installation 511." _said Anderson_._

_"To clarify,"_ continued Walker, "_Installation 511 is where all Alliance biotic soldiers go for psycho-conditioning to enhance their biotic control. While 511's existence is an open secret, the location is an extremely well guarded one - only Alliance officers with Black-level clearance know exactly where it is located."_

"_That's where Shepard and Alenko met."_ added Anderson.

_"...Interesting. Hein doesn't have Black clearance with the Alliance?"_ asked Jensen.

_"Of course not,"_ answered Walker. _"DARPA isn't technically part of the Alliance, it just supplies UNAS technological development resources to the Alliance under the Ares Accord."_

Jensen turned the page. A group photo of Shepard and several cheering Alliance soldiers. Shepard and Alenko were side by side, with Shepard's arm over Alenko's shoulder. _"Torfan,"_ said Anderson simply.

Jensen turned the page. A neurological diagnostics report on Shepard's brain. Someone wrote HOW DID THIS HAPPEN next to it in red ink.

_"This is from the first time Shepard started suffering from her neuropozyne symptoms, isn't it?"_ asked Jensen, already knowing the answer.

_"As you say...keep going."_

Jensen turned the page. Schematics for some kind of wetware.

"_This...this is a blueprint for a Soulcatcher._" said Walker in awe.

_"Soulcatcher?"_ asked Jensen and Anderson in unison.

_"Precursor to the Grayboxes made 2032 - very similar design - but Soulcatchers don't just record whatever the implantee wants them to, they record EVERYTHING: memories, experiences, skills. Problem is there's only so much data you can cram into a small chip, so they filled up to capacity pretty quickly. According to this blueprint, though...Hein fixed that problem."_

Anderson voice went deadly cold. _"The L3s, the Graybox...Hein...you...you just wanted your precious hardware back, you son of a bitch."_

_Jensen ignored him. "Any ideas where that Soulcatcher is stored? Hein had someone pick up Shepard's wetware before we could get a look at what was inside."_

_"Special Projects is as good as any place to look, Jensen," _reminded Walker.

_"Of course."_

Jensen skimmed the last few pages of the scrapbook. Pictures of Shepard and Alenko, reports on Shepard's actions during the Blitz, Akuze, Torfan...Shepard had distinguished herself in all three bloody campaigns, and they pinned quite a few medals on her chest.

And after Eden Prime, there would be nothing else to read.

_"...I think I'm done here."_ Jensen gently put down the book right where it was, and picked up the keycard. _"Headed down to Special Projects." _

**~[h+]~**

In the mess hall, Tali sat across from Doctor Ross as she ate her meal of bits of raw fish wrapped in rice and seaweed. Usually it would gall her to see someone eat something without a suit, but she wasn't sure she would enjoy eating something so odd anyways. Thus free of envy, Tali observed for the first time how humans ate with an obscene fascination as she slurped her liquid meal through her emergency induction port. Aki caught her staring and laughed a bit.

"What, do I have something on my nose?"

"Oh! err... I didn't mean to stare! I just rarely get to see an alien eat, that's all."

"How come?"

"...They tend to throw their utensils at me and scream..." Tali tried her best angry Turian impression "...'get away from my food you filthy suit rat!'"

Aki winced. "Oh."

"Gunshots follow, sometimes." Tali continued. At Aki's awkward silence, Tali wisely decided to change the subject. "Let's... not talk about how much my Pilgrimage sucked." She pointed at Aki's dessert, a handful of flat cookies in a plastic container with the address of a restaurant with an unpronounceable name printed on the side. "What are those?"

"Those? Those are _hwajeons."_

"Are those... flower petals on them?"

"Yes, azaleas and cherry blossoms. Normally _hwajeons_ don't have the blossoms, but that's fusion cuisine for you." Aki leaned in conspiratorially. "Don't tell Hein, but those cost me around fifteen thousand credits."

"...Wow."

"Eep! I know, right? But I haven't had some earth food for a while and _Hwajeons_ are a favorite of mine. Worth every penny."

"But why are those so expensive? It's just flour and flowers..."

"The blossoms are very hard to come by on the Citadel, and demand has been rising among the Asari and Elcor. Supply is low, demand is high, and whoever sells the stuff can pretty much set their own prices. Honestly, I'm amazed I could get it so cheap...Whoever this-" Aki took a look at the box. "-Hwang is, he's raking it in."

Just then, Tali caught something move move behind Aki. She tried to focus on where she saw the distortion, but it was gone.

Her helmet's glass was probably warped, she decided. She'd have to look into fixing it later.

**~[h+]~**

_"Walker, did you hear that?" _asked Jensen sub-vocally as he cut through the mess hall on his way to the Med/Sci section and into the Special Projects room.

_"...What, the pancakes? Jensen, if you're that hungry then by all means knock both of them out and eat their food. It's not like you're on an infiltration mission aboard a military ship or anything."_

_"No, I mean the petals! God, it was right there on the Codex and it slips my mind - the food industry!"_

_"...You've lost me."_

_"Shepard's killer left a bouquet of cherry blossoms at the scene, so I looked into florists who sold the flower. Didn't find a single one, but I hadn't considered restaurants!"_

_"And you think this Hwang is involved with the killer, somehow. Because of Cherry Blossoms." _Walker couldn't help but sound a little patronizing.

_"I think the killer might be supplying Hwang's restaurant with Cherry Blossoms."_

_"...That's a bit of a stretch, Jensen." _Walker said, skeptical._ "From what Harkin told us, the killer isn't lacking in money."_

_"Maybe it's not really his- or her - money to spend. It's most likely funding for a hit. If she ever needed extra cash for some luxuries or even just paying rent, selling cherry blossoms as a delicacy would be a good way to do it. It's worth looking into, at the very least."_

_"...Fine, I'll do a few extranet searches on Hwang's and we'll head there as soon as you're out of the Durendal."_

Garrus IM'ed Jensen just as he made it to the large security door that led to Special Projects:

_G: Finally got Hein to be quiet for a moment and listen to my questions_

Says the only way to make a concealable particle blaster is to use a short helix barrel, remove all the heat management, and carry a separate power source.

_"Without a heat sink, whoever shot Alenko should have been badly burned, or at least would have had to drop the slagged weapon right away."_ concluded Jensen.

_G: That's what I thought, too._

_G: Brb, we're testing out the NoiseBlaster on some inmates now._

Need both hands to cover ears can't type

Jensen typed in the access code, and the heavy security door groaned open. He cursed under his breath at the noise, expecting it would cause Zorah and the other woman to come and investigate. When he was satisfied that they wouldn't be coming, Jensen stepped into the Special Projects Lab...

...And found himself face to face with another security door. Adam pulled out the card he found in Hein's room, but before he could use it, the security door groaned open. And then another security door down the hall.

_"Huh."_

_"Did you get scanned again, Jensen?"_

_"I don't think so."_ Adam turned on his smart vision. No scanners. _"I think this pass is wireless._ _Just having it is enough, apparently."_

_"...Well, try to be careful. I have a bad feeling about this."_

_"Hmph. Didn't think you cared."_

_"If you get caught, it's my arse on the line."_

The Special Project Lab's main hall gave access to several seven rooms, six of them on the left and right of Jensen, the last one in front of him. The walls were made out of a bronze colored metal that reflected the light from the dim neons mounted on the ceiling. The side rooms' doors were wide open, offering glimpses of what was inside of them as Jensen walked by. One of them had a great deal of biotech equipment, including a large glass cylinder. This was cloning equipment.

_"Here's a theory."_ said Jensen sub-vocally. _"Hein decides to bring Shepard back from the dead by cloning her. Clone goes insane, escapes, murders and rapes Kaidan."_

_"Possible,"_ agreed Walker. _"But the rape kit just came in negative on all counts. The only thing the techs found that could be considered remotely sexual was saliva on Kaidan's fingers."_

Garrus messaged: Ah, that explains the sucking noises. DNA match anything?

_"Nothing on file, unfortunately, but it definitely belongs to a woman. The techs also found skin and blood under Kaidan's fingernails and...hm."_

_"What is it?" _

_"The blood is a synthetic substitute O negative that you would find in any hospital. The skin samples, however...I'm not sure what to make of them. Those cells... belong to either a human being or...or an octopus."_

_"Well, there goes my clone theory."_

_"Oh, don't feel too bad, Jensen," said Walker condescendingly. "It wasn't a bad guess, really."_

Jensen walked into the room at the end of the hall. A mess of electronic equipment was on the floor and mounted on the walls. Coolant mist lingered on the floor, disturbed only by Jensen's feet. The centerpiece of the room was a black pedestal, with a silvery monolith split vertically in half mounted on top of it and a multitude of cables plugged into its base. At the center of the two pieces of silver was a hexagonal chip. Lines of yellow-green light pulsed across it and radiated out into the silver mounts.

_"That chip...That's the central component of Shepard's graybox," _saidWalker_._ _"And this setup...The hardware is human but the configuration is... almost Prothean."_

As Jensen approached the pedestal, he noticed something on the ground, inside the mist. It was a Steiner-Bisley Zenith 10mm pistol. Jensen's smart vision picked out nine bullets on the ground, which meant there was still one in the gun's chamber. Next to the gun was a datapad. Jensen picked it up and attempted to read it, but the terms and numbers were a bit beyond him. The one thing he could read was the blinking status report.

DATA CORRUPTION: 99.92%

_"No..."_ Anderson almost whimpered. _"She's completely gone._ _I was hoping something would be left her beyond a cold corpse..."_

_"Anderson..." _said Jensen as he looked at the gun again._ "I think...I think Hein took Shepard's death even harder than you did. I think he is..."_

_"No, don't you dare say it! Hein is nothing to Shepard, NOTHING! Where was Hein for the first fifteen goddamned years of her life?! Where was Hein when she proudly took the Oath of Service after years of painful training and surgery?! Where was Hein when her ENTIRE WORLD HAD BEEN BURNED TO THE GROUND?! I was there! Me!"_

Neither Walker nor Jensen answered.

_"If you'll excuse me..."_ Anderson said calmly. _"I need to bring Jun's body back home."_

Walker protested. _"Mister Anders-"_

_"-Let him go."_ Jensen interrupted as he put the datapad back down. He approached the pedestal, getting a good look at it the hexagonal chip. There was a data jack on the side of the silver mounts. _"Well, here it is, Shepard's Graybox._ _Where do I go from here?"_

Walker sighed. "I don't know. I was hoping we'd find something more damning than this. Owning biotech hardware is hardly illegal, and neither is grooming someone to become a biotic supersoldier."

"I thought the Alliance frowned on augmentation."

_"Not when it comes to Biotics, for obvious reasons...In any case, this has been a major waste of time. I'm pulling the plug on this op. Get out of there and come back to C-Sec academy right away."_

Jensen pulled out another wire from his Omni-Tool.

_"What. Are you. Doing?"_ asked Walker, punctuating almost every word.

_"You saw the report, there's still point-oh-eight percent worth of data that's intact in there. I think I've got enough room in my Omni-Tool to make a copy of that."_

_"What? What the hell for?!"_

_"If that small portion of data contains Shepard's last moments, then I might have an even better look at the killer. It's worth a shot."_

_"Hein probably put a ton of Black ICE to protect his network!"_

"That's why I'm going to connect to the chip direct-there's a plug on the side of the mount. I'll route my Neural Hub's MHD-998 through my Omni-Tool to crack any local security."

_"Jensen! Don't do-"_

But it was too late. Jensen had already jacked in.

**~[h+]~**

* * *

_CODEX ENTRY: TECHNOLOGY: EARTH: BIOTECH: BIO-ELECTRIC CAPACITORS_

_The OVO Corporation Bio-Electric capacitor (also known as OVO-Pack) is a bio-engineered non-sentient organism that absorbs electricity and stores it in cells which in turn are caught in a nutrient-rich bio-gel suspension. While it takes much longer to charge than a regular super-capacitor, the BEC has several thousand times the capacitance of any other type of battery. A single 250ml OVO-Pack can power an entire home for a few months, though it would take at most two weeks to recharge. A 600 gallon (2640 liters) OVO-Pack can provide a colony with emergency power for at least six days._

_The galaxy at large has been slow to adopt the technology due to the bio-engineered nature of the Ovo-Pack's primary component. However, much like Medi-Gel, the Ovo-Pack has proven to be far too useful to ban. _

_OVO is currently working on creating a new type of photosynthetic power plant based on the BEC to provide cheap and plentiful power for the colonies._

* * *

_CODEX ENTRY: TECHNOLOGY: EARTH: WEAPONS: G302D 'Serpent' Assault Carbine_

_The culmination of Mako Ballistics' project Nocturne (and the successor to the failed Mag-Rail project), the Serpent is a man-portable charged particle beam weapon designed to easily overcome most armors, including those made with CNT materials, by transferring excessive kinetic energy into a target's molecules, not to mention an incredible amount of heat into the whole target itself. As such, the Serpent is all at once an excellent anti-personel and anti-armour weapon, compatible with a wide range of power systems (including the new 375 ml Ovo-Pack, which provides it with 35 shots)._

_Unfortunately for Mako Ballistics, The UNAS government decided to scrap the Serpent in favor of the new line of Avenger Assault rifles, which incorporated a Phasic envelope generator that improved the kinetic weapon's performance against kinetic barriers. For all its physical might, the Serpent performed little better than any other assault rifle against shields._

_Mako Ballistics went bankrupt the following year. Edgar Hein, who had overseen Project Nocturne for the UNAS government (and had been one of its major proponents) bought the fabrication rights for the Serpent, along with a dozen of the original production models, as Mako liquidated its assets._


	16. Behind those masks

_Shepard hated hospitals. She had her fill of hospitals during the battery of treatments that were meant to enhance her biotic potential, and during those horrible months she had learned to hate the various smells of a hospital. Disinfectant mingled with piss. God, she hated that worst of all, it made her so miserable._

_Shepard hated her neuropozyne treatments. They were few and far between well enough, but the meds -Oh, the meds!- turned her into a ghastly mess. Soon there would be cold sweats, vomiting, loss of bowel control, and worst of all...dementia. A whole week of dementia. That was why she didn't let Chakwas do the treatment: the Normandy's sickbay was small and had little in the way of privacy. She didn't want the crew to see her like this. She didn't want them to hear her shout obscenities at shadows. _

_She didn't want Kaidan to see her like this. It's why she sent him away. She had said such harsh things after pulling rank on him, but he just wouldn't leave otherwise. This...this was better. _

_It was so hard to focus. Goddamned medicine._

_She heard the door opening, and let out an exasperated sigh._

_"I told you to go away..." she groaned._

_She heard footsteps, and then scent of fresh cherry blossoms cut through the stink of disinfectant. She could make out a figure - Kaidan's, no doubt - putting a bouquet down on the commode by the window._

_Shepard hated flowers. But once upon at time, she used to love them so very much. Her mother was a botanist, and above all else Shepard loved to work with her in the greenhouse. They had worked so hard to bring life and color to the colony. Lotuses and oleanders, roses and lantanas, orchids and lilies... they had nurtured a multitude of flowers in that greenhouse, and had spread them across every garden that would take them._

_But then the Slavers came, and since then the flowers no longer brought her joy. They only served to recall the the painful memories of rapists and murderers laughing as people were corralled like cattle. It reminded her of that vow she made to herself in that house of shattered glass as the three men she had killed voided their bowels as their blood left their veins._

_Make them pay._

_It was the vow that had led her all the way to Torfan, it was the vow that she broke when she had decided that the lives of a thousand soldiers were far more important than her revenge. Kaidan, oh, her sweet Kaidan, how he had held her back that day..._

_No, she would not dwell on it. She would push the memories aside, like she always did._

_She felt the warmth of a presence next to her. She eyes tried to focus on its face, but she couldn't get past the shades and the hood._

_The figure removed them and smiled at her tenderly._

_"M...Mom?"_

_She knew it couldn't be. It was the meds. She was delirious, and she knew it, but at that moment she wanted to be. It was a chance to say I love you again. A chance to say goodbye, to say I'm sorry, to-_

_Shepard felt something cold inside of her heart, and she saw her mother's face twisting in an expression of glee and hatred. She knew what had happened. She could feel her life being drained, her consciousness ebbing away, her tears welling up in her eyes._

_"Why?!" she asked her murderer, and the question echoed in her ears as darkness took her._

_..._

_..._

_"..._ **because you would not obey."**

**~[h+]~**

"...Why?!" Jensen gasped as he unplugged the Omni-tool from the pedestal and he fell to the ground, tears in his eyes and the horrible feeling of cold metal inside his chest. He could hear voices in head, and it took him a moment to realize that he was hearing Vakarian and Walker shouting at him through his connection.

"Jensen? Jensen! Spirits and Titans talk to me, man!"

"Garrus? Wha- Argh! my head..." Jensen felt like the inside of his skull was on fire.

Walker's usually pleasant voice was like a battering ram in his eardrums. "Jensen, what the hell happened?!"

"I...I-I jacked in and then..."

"You've been silent for thirty bloody minutes!" continued Walker. "Hein left C-Sec Academy ten minutes ago, get out of there!"

"Thirty minutes?!...It can't be...how?!"

"Jensen, we're already on our way and we'll be waiting for you outside the spaceport's terminal, right by the main entrance." Vakarian couldn't keep the worry out of his voice. _"Can you make it?"_

Jensen managed to get back on his feet, shaking his head and forcing himself back into full consciousness. The colors seemed brighter and the sounds felt sharper for a moment, and then his senses went back to normal, including his balance.

_"Hurry up!"_

**~[h+]~**

"So, what took you so long?" asked Aki as Edward 'Wolf' Grey walked into the cargo bay. He pushed two buttons on his Nightmare helmet and it loosened its grip on his head, allowing him to remove it. Behind him were four Quarians, with the three adults being flanked by the slightly lanky Neil 'Highwind' Flemming and the incredibly large Ryan 'Paladin' Whitaker, who had the quarian child riding on his shoulders. Tali rushed to them to see if they were hurt, and was immediately drowned in their gratitude.

"We had the mother of all bathroom breaks, that's what!" answered Neil. Aki frowned.

"The kid had a..." Grey hesitated to say. "...a full tank. The protocols needed to remove a bag of liquid waste from a Quarian suit are apparently pretty complicated and couldn't be done from the inside of an aircab. We had stop at a clinic for a clean room. They didn't even charge us."

Aki gave Edward a look, glancing at his armor, the various grenades on his belt and his Serpent assault carbine. "Hm, can't imagine why."

Edward, sensing her meaning (and sarcasm), chuckled. "I know, and yet it's like fully armed and armored soldiers are a common sight on the Citadel. We didn't even get stopped by C-Sec, not even _once._"

"Alright little man," said Ryan as he set the Quarian boy down. "Go say hi to Auntie Tali and give her a hug."

"Hey! I'm too young to be an aunt!" Tali protested as Fyodor scampered to Tali and wrapped his arms around her ample hips. Her outrage faded instantly. "...dangit."

Ryan let out a good-natured laugh as he removed his helmet. He was a dark skinned human with white cornrows on his head and a goatee surrounding a generous mouth constantly curled in a warm smile.

The smaller soldier also removed his helmet, revealing a skin that hadn't seen the sunlight in years. He had short, swept back brown hair and a deeply rooted stubble. "I gotta say, that was the _cleanest_ sewer I've ever seen in my life!"

"Why, you make a it habit of visiting sewers, Neil?" said Jane behind Neil as she pushed the hover-cart past the thick cargo ramp, which also doubled as the Durendal's cargo bay's main door. Behind her was Hein, happily whistling a tune.

"Aw man, why do have to go and bust my chops? I'm just saying, you'd expect filth on the walls or something, but nope! The place is so clean you could eat off the floor!"

Edward ignored him and saluted Hein. "I take it you sold a few things, sir?"

"Hm? Oh yes! Two crates of Serpents, four crates of rechargeable bio-capacitors, and one Noiseblaster. The anti-riot applications for the Noiseblaster made it an easy sell, but Pallin was on the fence about the Serpents. But once I told him that they could make quick work of Carbon Nanotube armor, he decided to buy eight of them for evaluation purposes, and I expect we'll be able to negotiate a fabrication rights contract soon enough."

"Carbon nanotube armor is a problem on the Citadel?"

"It's starting to become a problem everywhere, and it's not just CNT materials, either. Non-Newtonian fluid held together by a mass effect field can render any common crook temporarily invulnerable. Not a whole lot of people want to admit it, but defensive technologies are catching up to the killing power of kinetic small arms..."

Hein continued walking towards the inside of the ship. He took notice of the group of quarians he had tasked Grey with rescuing as part of his deal with Zorah. "Ah, and I see your mission was successful. So how does it feel to finally stretch your legs?"

"After three years of rehab and four of crap assignments..." Edward took a deep breath and sighed with relief. "...It feels pretty good to know that I haven't lost my edge, sir. Still, a bunch of armed gangbangers wasn't a real challenge for the Deep Eyes."

"Well, you might get your chance: It's a crazy galaxy out there. Also-" Hein stopped suddenly in the middle of the cargo bay and looked around, like an animal scanning for a hidden predator. Or a prey.

"Something wrong, sir?"

"...I thought I felt something move past me."

"It's probably just the wind, sir. The bay doors are wide open."

_"...It's NEVER just the wind!"_ Hein grabbed one of Edward's chaff grenades, threw it at the ceiling and shot it with his sidearm. Its explosion rained down a shower of sparks and slow falling Snowblind particles onto everyone, including a cloaked figure that had suddenly appeared in the middle of group. It was a distorted and transparent phantom, which glowed faintly with yellow-green light with flecks of cyan.

"Intruder!" shouted Edward as he pointed his Serpent at the figure. Without missing a beat, Neil pointed his DMR at the intruder, Ryan withdrew his sawed-off shotgun and activated his Riot Omni-Shield, and Jane took out her knife and pistol and dropped into a CQC stance. They all commanded the phantom to put its hands up, and it complied...before it grasped its head in pain and fell to its knees.

**"aaaAAAAaarrrgh!"**

"Aki, get the civvies out of here!" commanded Edward. "Ryan, secure that thing!"

Ryan was understandably confused, as he had never had to secure a ghost before. "How, sir?"

"It's obviously some guy in a malfunctioning stealth unit, just Omni-Cuff him!"

"Aw, great. Just what we need! A _ghost-head._" Neil commented sarcastically.

Ryan complied with Edward's order - or at least tried to. Instead, he was grabbed by a giant haptic hand by the head and thrown into a pile of crates some five meters away. The phantom stood erect, glowing brighter than ever, but nowhere near as bright as its left hand. It was wrapped in a mess of holographic cubes forming an imitation of a gauntlet. The phantom's form appeared like a man in a regal robe, with a half-circle headdress with beads hanging from the sides.

"Target hostile!" shouted Jane.

"Weapons free, open fire!"

"Die, ghost!"

As the three Deep Eyes fired upon the phantom, a multitude of crystalline hexagons appeared and shattered as bullets and particle shots impacted against them, protecting their creator. The phantom growled, growing more annoyed with each attack. Instead of giving expression to its anger, it simply said one word:

**"JAM."**

As if obeying their master, the Deep Eyes' weapons stopped firing. And before Jane could even think about engaging the intruder with her knife, an unseen force emanating from the glowing gauntlet pushed her away.

"What in the hell...?!" muttered Edward.

The phantom's regal form distorted, and spoke again. **"I...I...I havE t-To gEt out of here... my partner, the woman...I hHave to...fiNd...thEm"**The phantom screamed and ran for the cargo bay door. The Deep Eyes gave chase as far as the ramp, as the phantom vanished into the docks.

Neil voiced what everyone was thinking. "...Okay, someone explain to me what the hell happened here?"

Hein walked up behind them all, grinning. "Something... _magnificent_, Mister Flemming," he said, tapping his chin. Things were coming together in such delightfully unexpected ways...

**~[h+]~**

"I'm not waiting - I'm going in there," said Garrus firmly as he checked his Mongoose's ammo block and shaver. Walker stopped him.

"And what do you think that's going to accomplish? The Deep Eyes may have fallen on hard times, but they are still some of the best the United States has to offer."

"How many are there?"

"Four."

"Not enough to stop me." Garrus holstered his pistol for emphasis. Walker rolled her eyes: the posturing didn't impress her at all.

"Oh for crying out- Look, there he is, and no one's chasing him. Drop the bravado."

Garrus looked at the main entrance to the spaceport, and true enough, Jensen was stepping through the automatic doors with a hurried stride and a furrowed brow...

"Jensen!" Garrus walked up to his partner and put his hand on Adam's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Walker, however, wasn't so courteous. "Get. In. The. Car." And before Jensen could reply she had gotten in the vehicle's passenger's seat, her arms crossed. She didn't look very happy, but neither Garrus nor Adam could understand why. After all, as far Walker knew Jensen had gotten in and out without incident.

Jensen approached the vehicle and recognized it. It had a fresh coat of blue paint and looked almost fresh out of the dealership, but he recognized it. "...Is that my car?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, apparently Ms. Walker over here paid the repair bill.

"Great, remind me to check for bugs. Or bombs."

Garrus chuckled. "But seriously Jensen, are you alright? You don't look too good."

"All I know is that my energy reserves are at ten percent and that I'm really, _really_ hungry. Don't suppose you got some candy bars on you?"

If turians could smirk, Garrus would be doing it right now. "I do, but they're all dextro."

Jensen groaned. "Damn."

**~[h+]~**

Inside the car, Jensen sat in the backseat while Garrus sat in the driver's seat. Walker had set the coordinates to Hwang's, a restaurant that made a fortune feeding pan-asian cuisine to rich Asari in Edroki Plaza on Kithoi Ward. It wasn't that far, but Walker had programmed a somewhat scenic route to give them time to talk.

"So what happened in there for that half-hour?" asked Walker.

"I was getting worried that they had caught you, Jensen." said Vakarian.

Jensen rubbed his forehead, trying to massage the last vestiges of his headache away. "They very nearly did."

Walker was indignant. "They saw you?!"

"Kinda, Hein threw a chaff grenade and got my cloak to distort, then..."

"...Yes? Then what?"

"I...I don't remember."

Walker palmed her face. "Oh, _fantastic_."

"Well," Garrus typed on his Omni-Tool, checking on dispatcher updates. "We haven't received an APB for a human in a brown coat, so I suppose they haven't ID'd you."

"Please tell me you got something out of that reader, at least," sighed Walker.

"Yeah, yeah, here." Jensen activated his Omni-Tool. It immediately went haywire, creating a multitude of random prisms that hovered around his hand. Jensen realized it was still plugged into his cerebral jack, and as soon as he disconnected it the prisms vanished the Omni-Tool's haptic interface returned to normal. The Omni-Gel indicator flashed red: the tank was empty.

"...Well, that was weird," commented Garrus as he reached for the glove compartment and took out a bottle of Omni-Gel. He handed it to Jensen, who promptly refilled his Tool's tank. "Think Hein left a surprise in your Omni-Tool?"

"If he did he didn't do that great a job of protecting his data, because-" Jensen's eyes widened at his Omni-Tool's screen: the data wasn't there.

"What?"

"The data isn't there! Dammit, it _should_ be there, I saw Shepard's last moments!"

Walker went from annoyed to incredulous. "You...interpreted Soulcatcher data?"

"More like experienced."

"That's..."

Garrus interrupted her. "Really? Well, did you get a look at the killer, at least?"

"...It was her mother. Or someone that looked a lot like her."

"I thought you ID's the prep as a male?"

"As a possible male. There's no accounting for disguises...Walker, did you say the skin cells reminded you of those of an octopus?"

"They did."

"Well, what if we're dealing with a shape-shifter, here? I thought we were dealing with two killers: one for Shepard, one for Alenko, but what if we're dealing with just one?"

Garrus rolled his eyes. "A shapeshi- oh come on, Jensen! Sounds like something out of a bad sci-fi!"

"...You live on a _space station._"

"...Yeah, so?"

Walker tapped her chin pensively. "It's...not impossible. Nature has yielded animals with incredible camouflaging abilities, so why not sentients? The Sirius Clusters has yielded some interesting new species, so far..."

"Ah, dammit!" Garrus groaned. "If that's what we're dealing with, then this case is going to be a long one. How do you catch someone that can simply transform himself into someone else?"

Walker smiled. "Well, we can thank the late Mr Alenko, as he's given us a way to ID the killer."

"Do explain."

"I had a closer look at the skin cells found on Alenko's fingers and I've concluded that they don't heal very well. Since Alenko scratched a part of his killer's body, the wound should still be present."

"You ever hear of Medi-Gel?" asked Garrus sarcastically. "You know, miracle gunk that heals everything?"

"I considered that: and I ordered The techs to immerse the skin cells in Medi-Gel. The cells began to replicate uncontrollably, as if cancerous."

"So," concluded Jensen, "if we pick up the killer's trail at Hwang's, we'll be able to ID him or her at a glance if Alenko went for the face."

"And if Alenko got the arms or the body?" asked Garrus. "What then? Ask the suspect to strip?"

"If it comes to that, sure."

**~[h+]~**

_Hwang's Authentic Oriental Delights_ was, Adam decided (and Walker agreed), the most gaudy oriental-themed resto-bar he had ever been to in his life, and he had been in quite a few. The seats, booths and bar were made out of dark varnished wood with bas-reliefs of dragons carved into them, the carper was a bright red with gold trim, rice paper partitions and paper lanterns were _everywhere. _And for some reason, there was a small rock garden in the middle of the place, with a plinking bamboo waitresses' uniforms consisted of a short red and black kimono that showed off their legs, thigh-high black silk socks (a popular Asian fetish), lacquered wooden sandals, a garish Indonesian headdress made out of (fake) gold coins with loop earrings to match. At least Hwang resisted the urge to put "Asian" themed music on the speakers. Still, the somewhat repetitive techno (which was synched up to a seizure inducing cartoon dragon flying all over the OLED walls) felt out of place.

Naturally, the place was almost full. The greeter (who had a smile so big and honest Jensen wondered if the whole staff was on some kind of upper) still managed to find them a table for three, next to an Elcor and his Asari girlfriend. The Elcor, Adam noticed was enjoying a small bowl of fresh Cherry Blossoms, fed to him one by one by his date.

"I see Elcor, some turians, _lots_ of Asari and Salarians...but not a lot of humans," said Garrus. "You'd think an Earth-themed restaurant would have more humans frequenting it."

"You'd think." Jensen agreed. "What's the human population on Kithoi?"

"About five hundred." answered Garrus. "You'd also think that this Hwang fella would open this place at Shin Akiba. Curious."

"That's probably the point: places like this are a dime a dozen at Shin Akiba. Here, it stands out, right in the sights of young Asari who are going through a Terran cultural craze right now."

The greeter had given them each two menus, once silver, one gold. The silver menu detailed the affordable dishes, while the gold menu detailed the...not so affordable ones. Naturally, Walker ignored the silver menu while Garrus and Adam couldn't get rid of the gold ones fast enough. Garrus was pleasantly surprised to find that _Hwang's_ sold quite a few Dextro variants of the Asian-Terran dishes.

They quickly made up their minds: Jensen ordered an eighteen ounce Water Buffalo steak with a side order of fried rice and a black soda. Walker ordered up a sushi platter with caviar, with a bowl of _yàn wō _and a cup of _sakurayu_. Garrus simply ordered a bowl of Dextro-Ramen and a glass of water.

"I hear this ramen is a delicacy back on Earth. Can't wait to try it." At Walker's snicker, Garrus tightened his mandibles. "What? It's not?"

"Ramen, even the non-instant variety, is about a common as pasta on Earth." supplied Jensen. "You're about to pay thirty-five hundred credits for Palaven wheat, Vakarian."

Garrus held his head up high. "Well, since I haven't had Palaven wheat in years, I'll gladly pay those three thousand credits! So there."

"Whatever you say, Vakarian."

They only needed to wait about half an hour for their food. Not bad, considering how big and how full the restaurant was. The food's aroma hit Jensen's nose like a speeding truck. He hadn't quite realized how hungry he was and he wolfed down his food fairly quickly, and before long all he had left to do was sip his drink and watch as Garrus struggled to eat his Ramen with chopsticks, and watching Walker slowly eat her sushi.

So very, VERY slowly eat her sushi. It was almost hypnotic the way her lips wrapped around the seaweed cylinder and - Jensen shook his head. No. No no no he wasn't going to fall for that. Never again. Then again, it wasn't like she was paying him any attention: she was glancing at some data stream on her Omni-Tool. She looked almost bored.

Garrus gave up on the chopsticks and used a fork. "Say, what was that soup you ate?" he asked Walker. "It smelled kinda familiar."

"It was _yàn wō _." Walker answered.

"...Oh, okay." Garrus leaned towards Jensen, gently elbowed him in the arm and asked. "What's that?"

"Congealed bird spit in broth." answered Jensen flatly. To his surprise, Garrus wasn't grossed out by this at all.

"Isn't she a little old for that?"

"... I'm not sure i get what you mean."

"Right, I should explain: Turian females generate a nutrient rich spit that throughout a pregnancy. It congeals quickly They make hundreds of crunchy dry cakes out of it. When the baby's born it is fed the stuff for the first few months of its life...What, don't human females do that for their kids?"

"Sorta. Their breasts swell with a nutrient rich liquid."

"Oh." Garrus took a quick glance at Walker's chest. "Well, I see Walker is off to a great start on that."

"_Excuse me._" said an irritated Walker through gritted teeth. "You _do_ know that I'm sitting right here and that i can hear you, right?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure Vakarian's interest in your chest is purely scientific." Jensen deadpanned. "How's your sushi?"

Walker held back a retort and resumed her professional demeanor. "How's your so-called Water Buffalo?"

"It's...protein rich. By which i mean it's molded protein flavored and textured to resemble Buffalo meat. I take it the fish in your sushi is the same?"

"It is."

Garrus couldn't keep up with them. "Wait, what are-"

Walker interrupted him "-I can't quite place the caviar, though. It feels like the real stuff but the _flavor_ is off."

Jensen took a small spoonful of the caviar, crushed some between his finger and thumb and smelled the gunk. "It's some kind of fish flavored juice that's been spherified. That doesn't bode very well for your bird spit. Or the blossoms in your tisane."

Garrus was still confused. "Guys-"

"Oh no, those are both authentic. I scanned the pickled blossoms to make sure."

"Well, I think we've got enough to confront this Hwang fella and make him sweat a bit." Jensen got up. "Let's have a word with the owner and...compliment him on his choice of chefs." Walker got up without a word to follow him.

Garrus' mind, meanwhile, was still trying to catch up. "...Is my ramen _even_ _made_ of Palaven wheat?"

"Probably not!" Jensen answered loudly, as he was already meters away on his way to Hwang's office. Garrus threw his fork on the table and rose from this seat. Thirty-five hundred credits wasted.

**~[h+]~**

The trio marched through the kitchen, striding intently towards Hwang's office as a waitress futilely tried to stop them. Kitchen was a bit of a generous term for this place. It looked much more like a factory floor, with dozens of white robotic arms mounted on rails on the ceiling that prepared orders with mechanical precision.

As they barged in the office, Hwang was sitting at his desk, his face pursed as if he put the sourest piece of candy in his mouth. As they approached the desk, Jensen noticed a gold headdress on the owner's desk.

"M-Mister JenSEEEEN!...I-is there something i can...help..._YOU!_...with?" asked Hwang as he kept both hands suspiciously under the desk. Jensen didn't need his smart vision to figure out what was going on.

"You can tell the waitress under your desk to leave so we can talk in private."

"I...have no idea what you're talking about." Hwang betrayed a slight Australian accent just then, much like Walker's.

Jensen kicked the heavy wooden desk, causing it to be pushed back half an inch. It was enough for the waitress pleasuring Hwang to let out a quick yelp.

"You sure about that?"

Hwang zipped up, and grabbed the waitress by the shoulders and helped her up. She sheepishly reclaimed her headdress and excused herself from the scene. Walker stopped her just for a moment, handing her a napkin. She silently pointed to the corner of her mouth.

"...Oh! thank you..." she said gratefully as she wiped the wet stain away, and left the office, closing the door behind her.

"Mister Hwang..." said Walker, sauntering towards the owner. "Or should I call you Rudy Cullen? Nice yellow-face."

"Hey! How do you know my real name?"

"It's my job to know these things. We have a few a questions for you, if you don't mind."

"Yeah? Give me a good reason why I shouldn't call C..." he eyed Jensen, then Garrus, and remembered who they worked for. "Aw, hell. What do you want to know? And before you ask: Yeah, she's legal and consenting!"

"We're here about the Cherry Blossoms." said Jensen.

"What about them? I import them straight from Earth and..."

"Cut the crap, 'Hwang'. Importing perishables into the Citadel is nearly impossible. Unless you're admitting you're smuggling-"

"What?! No!" Hwang protested, and Jensen's CASIE reported the reaction as a genuine one.

"Then you're getting the stuff locally. The question is, from whom?"

"Oh no. Oh nonono I still need the revenue from that! The stuff sells for a fortune, I'll be RUINED if you shut my provider down!"

Garrus shrugged. "Cry me a river."

"This is important." Jensen insisted. "Your provider may be our prime suspect in a murder case. Tell us who he or she is and we'll be on our way."

Hwang seemed shocked, but then he shook his head. "You know what? No. And you can't actually make me do or say anything unless you got a warrant, and you can't get a warrant without plausible evidence! So fuck. _You_. And so long!"

"Oh we got plausible evidence, and we can go and get ourselves a warrant to bring you in for a chat. And while we're at the station, we just might give a phone call to some friends at the Citadel trade commission? I'm sure they'd love to know about the little scam you got going here."

"Hey, there's no scam going on here I run a legitimate business!"

Walker crossed her arms. "You advertise your meals as authentic. Your menus go on about the far off exotic locations you get your ingredients from. Never mind the fact that your caviar is congealed fish juice..."

"Your meat is local molded protein..."continued Jensen.

"And your ramen tastes...okay." Garrus didn't think it would ever happen, but he wished he knew a bit more about gastronomy right about now. "Honestly, what else here is your brand of 'authentic'? Are those really asari out there or human girls in blue makeup?"

"And since Citadel Food and Drugs no doubt inspected your products, I'm guessing you bribed the inspectors in keeping your little secret," added Jensen.

"A visit by the CTC followed by a trip to the station would not be good for business." Walker smiled. "So you see, cooperating with us is in your best interest." And then, Walker's voice had a cold, menacing edge to it. "Tell. us. her. name."

Hwang cradled his face in despair. Either way, he was ruined. "...Diana Nielsen," he said as he fished out a holo-card out of his Omni-Tool and threw it at Walker.

"Thank you." Walker proceeded to do some extra-net searches. When the trio did not leave immediately, Hwang sighed.

"What? You got more questions for me?

"As a matter of fact," answered Jensen. "I do."

"Oh, _Wonderful_." Hwang groaned as he swept his slick black hair back with both hands and relaxed into his seat. "Ask away."

"Can you describe Diana Nielsen to me?"

"Tall, C-Cups, Dark hair, pale skin. Looks like she's got some Asian in her, but who in the OCU doesn't these days, right?"

"You don't." commented Walker.

Jensen ignored her. "She's OCU?"

"...Yeah, at least I think so. She has that Neo Kobe English accent. Sounds more Canadian than Australian."

"Did you say Neo Kobe?"

"What are you, deaf? That's what I said, yeah."

"...Right, sorry. When did you first encounter Diana Nielsen?"

"We met was around three years ago. She was a customer, and I was feeling kind of down on account of my ramen stand making less and less money every day so I decided to chat her up. She had this bouquet of cherry tree branches. I told her that if she liked I could take the leaves and whip up some _sakuramochi_ on the fly. It was a joke, of course, but it got us both talking about culinary applications for the stuff. She said she had more of the blossoms than she needed, and so we made a deal. All it took after that was a passing elcor and his asari girlfriend and before you knew it I was making money hand over fist."

"Why weren't you making any money before? Terran cooking had been 'in' for a while, now."

"Look, I tried to pass off my ramen as an earth delicacy to the aliens, but then some smartass Terran always came along and pointed out how common it is on earth. Assholes couldn't even tell the real thing from instant if their lives depended on it... Anyways, I figured I'd hire an Asari to mind the register -everyone likes Asari, right?- And it worked for a bit, too, but it didn't last. And then I had a blue mouth to feed on top of my other problems."

"I'm sure you managed to keep her mouth full," commented Garrus with a sneer. The insinuation wasn't lost on Hwang.

"Fuck you, kittybird." Hwang shot back.

Jensen continued with his questions. "What sort of deal did you make with Nielsen?"

"She's a silent partner. Gets 25 percent of any sale of anything with Cherry Blossoms or leaves in it. Don't know what she needs the money for, and I didn't ask. I used my share of the profits to build this place."

"You made a pretty amount of coin selling the real deal. Why all the fake food?"

"Oh come on, you must know already! After the bio-hazard scare of 2174 C-Sec's Custom's stranglehold on foodstuffs has been killing the business of any startup restaurant!. The Citadel's Hydroponics just don't make the stuff I need for the theme I had going! So I put my Molecular Gastronomy skills to good use and gave the people here something new and different and make their lives a little less dull!"

"Don't idealize what you're doing here. You're running a scam."

"People. WANT. To be. Fooled!" Hwang rose from his seat in anger. "Don't believe me? All the way back in 2010 people were willing to pay top dollar for 'organic' and 'free range' food that was for all intents and purposes the same goddamned thing you'd get at a regular grocery store, and they managed to convince _themselves_ that it somehow _tasted_ better! Still don't believe me? Look at all my customers out there!You think the aliens are that dumb? Anyone with a rich enough palate can tell I'm selling protein! But they go along with it anyways! Why? Fucked if I know! But there's a demand for sweet little lies, Detective, and I'm here to supply them! And if I can serve up some of the real stuff to make the lie just that much more believable then so much the better for everyone! Are we done here? Yes? Then get the fuck out of my restaurant!"

**~[h+]~**

The trio left Hwang's office, with Jensen and Vakarian more than a bit disgusted with the man and more than ready to out him to the CTC. Sarah didn't care: she had a name and an address and that's all she needed from him. Whether _Hwang's_ sank or swam was none of her concern.

They stopped at the sight of a dozen Asari crowded together in the kitchen. They looked at Jensen with fear and worry, until one of them - the greeter - stepped forward. "Are you...are you planning on shutting this place down?"

Jensen sighed. It was clear that the waitresses feared for their jobs. "...I haven't decided yet."

"...Is there any way we can convince you not to?"

Garrus became tense. "...Are you offering us a bribe?" he said accusingly.

"No! I heard stories about you two... those that try to bribe you tend to wind up in jail or in the hospital. All I ask is that you listen to me."

Walker rolled her eyes and groaned. "Jensen, I swear, if she asks you to solve her life's problems I will shoot her." She smiled. "Fair warning."

To her credit, the greeter ignored Walker and kept on speaking. "Look, I know what of kind impression Hwa- i mean, Rudy- leaves on you after meeting him for the first time, but he's really not that bad a guy, really. He's been pretty good to us and we've yet to find better wages anywhere else."

"And as a perk he gets to use any of you for sex?" asked Jensen.

"Ah, you saw Delphi and Rudy. Look, they have a thing going, it's exclusive and consensual and it's the subject of catty gossip between us but it's not like he made any advances to any of us to begin with." She shrugged. "It just sorta happened, you know? There's little romance in it and marriage isn't in the cards, but there's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"No, I suppose there isn't."

"Look, we're _colonials_: our biotic potentials are nil, so Thessians treat us like crap and Merc groups won't even give us the time of day. Our options are too few. Rudy may use us for eye candy but it's better than what we've had to do before he hired us."

"And that would be?"

"Prostitution. And before you ask, yes, we all have our licenses, and that's part of the reason why we can't find other jobs. People look down on prostitutes unless they're all glamorous like the Consort and when your file has got a big red marker that says WHORE on it people tend to pass on your resume. I brought all of the girls here from the Upper Kithoi, and if Rudy's plans to start a chain pan out..." She smiled then, her eyes shining with a glimmer of hope. "I might be able to get more girls off of the streets!"

_"All_ Asari are good biotics!" shouted Garrus, unmoved. "Hell, I just got thrown out of a window by a class of asari tykes! You could totally find work as a merc you lying-"

"-Not without Eezo in our bodies! Most families on the colonies can't afford the Eezo rich nutrient paste the schools feed the kids. Go ahead, scan me! You'll see that I can't even manage a Throw!"

Jensen turned on his smart vision and gazed into the waitresses: not a single bright dot in their bodies. The greeter was telling the truth, but... "That doesn't change the fact that you're asking us to turn a blind eye to a scam, here."

"Are we really such horrible people? We serve fake food to people with more money than sense! We don't steal it. We don't snatch it away from the pockets of the poor. Do we really deserve to go back to the _Upper Wards_?"

"...No."

"Jensen!" Garrus was incredulous. As a turian, every fiber of his being told him that they deserve no less than to be judged harshly by their betters. "We can't ignore this!"

"It's the CTC's jurisdiction to handle stuff like this. We're C-Sec detectives on the murder desk and we just came in to have a bite to eat and we gave our compliments to the chef. Is that clear?"

"Jen-"

"Is. That. Clear?"

"...Yeah. I got it."

"Oh..." relief washed over the greeter, and then the rest of the staff. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Jensen wasn't quite done, however. "Look, I'll try to keep your secret but the truth of the matter is, my decision doesn't matter. Sooner or later someone else is going to figure this out and he won't be as understanding. Hell, he just might blackmail you or out you for shits and giggles. I take it you're Rudy's first hire?"

"I am." answered the greeter.

"And I take it he listens to you?"

"He does."

"Then convince him to drop the whole false advertisement angle. His profits may take a hit, but that's better than the CTC fining the place to oblivion and making C-Sec arrest you all. A criminal record won't do any of your girls any good."

Jensen left the greeter to think about his words. The trio made their way back to the entrance and paid for their food at the register. "Did you enjoy your meal, sir?" asked the Cashier. Jensen had to admit, before he figured out it was protein that steak did taste pretty good. Rudy, despite his other character flaws, was a talented molecular gastronomer.

"I did, actually." Jensen said with a slight smile. He waited for Garrus and Walker to pay their bills, left the restaurant, got back to the spinner, and set a straight course to Diana Nielsen's apartment. It was time to catch a killer.

**~[h+]~**

This time, Jensen was at the driver's seat, while Walker sat next to him in the passenger's seat. Vakarian sat in the back, sulking a bit. A silence fell over the car, barely disrupted by the hum of the Spinner's engine and the whirring of passing cars. Walker decided to break it.

"Are you _really_ that gullible, Jensen?"

"What are you even talking about?" Jensen replied. What was her problem now, he wondered.

"For all you know Hwang's could be a front for a drug operation and that greeter could have been in on it. A few Asari serving girls pout at you while telling you a sob story and that's enough to convince you to let them get away with a scam?"

Jensen couldn't exactly deny that the greeter had pulled at his heart-strings. Then again... "It's not like I have any evidence against them committing worse crimes than scamming stupid rich people."

Walker ignored him. "Maybe I should have approached you that way. Knock at your apartment door drenched in rain water, my clothes torn, my body shivering, my eyes red and my lip quivering..."

"Enough."

Walker's lips started quivering, and then she looked like she was genuinely on the verge of tears, and then the actual tears came. "_Oh please, mister Jensen!" _she sniffled._ "My employers want me to catch this horrible, horrible killer and they said that if I don't succeed they'll put me back on the street where they found me! But I don't want to suck cock anymore Mister Jensen! It tastes gross!" _And suddenly, Walker had dropped all pretense. "Boo-hoo-hoo. Still, I suspect you'd have caught the killer in minutes had I put on my battered housewife routine."

Jensen casually stepped on the brake pedal, causing the Spinner to come to a sudden stop and Walker's head to nearly hit the dashboard. Jensen took note of how quickly she put her arms forward to stop herself. She was quick. Too quick.

"You should put your seat belt on." Jensen said dryly.

"You did that on _purpose._" she said through gritted teeth.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Jensen as he stepped on the accelerator. "Speaking of catching killers, did you find anything on this Diana Nielsen?"

"Yes. I did," answered Walker coldly as she fixed her hair.

"...Anything you'd like to share?"

"...Diana Nielsen, Botanist, Age 32, height is five foot nine inches, blood type O negative, works for the Kithoi Botanical Gardens as a plant geneticist. Lives on the penthouse floor of building B of Elyse Apartments at the coordinates _I typed in already._ Supposedly a native of Neo-Kobe, which makes her an OCU citizen. This is all according to her social security file. Here's a picture, by the way." Walker conjured up a holo from her Omni-Tool. While the hair and skin tone matched both Shepard senior and junior, the shape of her face didn't quite match.

"'Supposedly' from the OCU? You don't know for sure?"

"She might have entered the Citadel with forged papers. I have no way of making sure in short order unless I make a trip to Earth. She's definitely a competent plant geneticist if she's been working for a place as prestigious as the Kithoi Botanical Gardens for as long as she as. Do we have a plan to deal with her once we arrive at her home?"

"Honestly, I hadn't thought that far ahead. Figured we'd have a look at around her apartment, ask her a few questions, stake her out for a while."

"Whatever we do, I think you should stay in the car."

"...Excuse me?"

Walker played back the audio file of Alenko's final moments. She singled out the part where Garrus and Jensen where heard, and the killer gasped.

"The killer fears you, Jensen."

"Yeah, with good reason."

"Indeed. And If Diana is our killer then I don't want to provoke her until we're absolutely, one hundred percent certain that she's the one we're looking for. After all, she did kill a trained Alliance Sentinel by tearing off his head. We'll most likely need a full Special Response squad to apprehend her."

"You don't mind putting yourself in danger like that?"

"Don't worry about me. After all, detective Vakarian will be there with me."

That brought Vakarian out of his funk. "Wait, I am?"

"Unless you think he's not up to the task, Jensen?"

Jensen didn't answer.

"Well?"

"Fine. I'll stay in the car."

**~[h+]~**

The Elyse Apartments were a pair of identical, five-story buildings in one of the fancier areas of Kithoi Ward. They were made of ferrous concrete on the inside, but had a clear and transparent skin of six-inch thick carbon glass and metal girders. They were separated by a red brick walkway, their entrances facing each other. The walkway was dotted by a dozen squares of dirt spread equally from one another, and on each square was a Cherry tree. Their petals fell gracefully on the ground.

Then a small dog came along and took a piss on one of the trees. Its master, a cranky old Volus woman, called it back to her side with a digital whistle mounted on her mask.

"Huh. I wonder how Hwang's customers would react if they saw this." commented Garrus. He looked at Walker, who was walking besides him. "Incidentally, how was your _tea_?"

"...I'm certain Hwang has the petals washed thoroughly."

"Yeah, you _hope._" Garrus looked up at the 'sky'. Kithoi's opposing ward blocked Widow's light, casting a shadow on everything. The faint glow coming from the Serpent Nebula bathed everything in a blue gloom. It would be hours before the Citadel's slow, ponderous spin would let Widow's light shine on Kithoi again. Garrus looked back at the Spinner with Jensen waiting inside, his fingers tapping on the analog wheel.

Walker took the time to scan each tree, and managed to find one that had some of its branches recently cut. She cross-referenced the tiny stumps to the branches found in Shepard's room. Perfect match.

"Interesting...these trees are only a few years old, dendrochronologically speaking ...but the trunks are thick enough to be a least forty. It seems Nielsen has altered those trees for accelerated growth. The petals no doubt bloom and fall at an accelerated frequency, allowing for a near constant supply."

"Why even bother?" asked Garrus.

"Well, cherry blossoms contain Coumarin, which has mild euphoric effects on both Asari and Elcor. Could be she planned to start her own little drug trade."

"_Coo mar ayn..._"Garrus mangled the pronunciation of the word. "...is _definitely_ not on the controlled substances list, I'd have remembered _that_ tongue twister."

"And it probably never will be, which is no doubt why Nielsen accepted Hwang's deal. More money to be had _and_ it's legal."

**~[h+]~**

On the elevator ride to the penthouse floor, Walker couldn't help herself and ask Vakarian a question. "So, you and Jensen are the same rank, correct?"

"We're both Sergeants, yes."

"But you've been on the force longer than he has?"

"I got one year's seniority over him. Are you going anywhere with this?"

"Well, when Jensen decided to keep quiet and you began to protest, you pretty much lost your nerve when he insisted on your silence as well. I might have understood if he was your direct superior, but he-"

"Look, if you're trying to drive a wedge between me and him, save your breath. I know the Alliance has wet dreams about offering up Jensen bound and gagged to a cult of terrorists. If you think I'm going to help you in that endeavor, you've got another thing coming."

"But surely, his disregard for the law back there must...bother you, on some level?"

"...It's not about the law. It was never about the law, not for us."

"Then what is it about for you, Mister Vakarian?"

"...It's about keeping people safe from the monsters in the dark."

The elevator doors opened with a chime, and Garrus was the first to step out, his footfalls absorbed by the thin red carpet that covered the hallway floor.

"It's just that Jensen is more comfortable in the dark than I am."

**~[h+]~**

Walker and Vakarian stood in front of Penthouse suite's door. Behind it lay the suspect, if not the killer. The plan was for Sarah to pretend to be a C-Sec investigator (under the treaty of Aken, she could do that) and occupy Nielsen with a drawn out interrogation. In the meantime, Garrus would excuse himself to the bathroom and discreetly plant several bugs (provided by Walker) around the apartment. If Nielsen's alibis and statements held up to scrutiny, then they would simply leave and stake her out. If Walker became completely convinced of Nielsen's guilt, then they would call in a Special Response Squad.

Of course, the plan depended on Nielsen actually answering the door.

Which she didn't.

"Ms Nielsen?" called out Walker as she pressed the door chime on the thick secure door. "Are you there?"

No answer.

"You know, It occurs to me that we should have checked if she was in, maybe give her a phone call?" quipped Garrus.

"I'm not in the habit of warning people I'm coming."

"... Yeah, I'll bet you're not. Well she obviously isn't home. Now what?"

"Plan B. We break in, plant the bugs and look through her stuff." She casually activated her Omni-Tool and started hacking the lock. "Before you ask-"

"I know, I know. Treaty of Aken." Garrus was silent for a while, waiting for Walker to finish unlocking the door. Still, he felt at that moment that it was his turn to ask a question. "So why do you dislike Jensen so much?"

"What makes you think I dislike him?"

"Well you weren't exactly pleasant back there."

"...Alright then: I think he's an outdated fossil with an even more outdated and extremely sexist sense of morality."

"...He might be technologically behind the curve a little, but you have to admit, he's pretty capable."

"There's _nothing_ Jensen can do that I can't wearing an advanced enough hard-suit."

"...You're jealous! For some reason you think Jensen and you are rivals somehow..." And then, something clicked inside Garrus' head. "You're an augment, aren't you? Some kind of Alliance experiment grown in a vat!"

Walker glared at him for a moment, then got back to picking the lock. "...If you're trying to get me to admit something while Jensen is standing besides me cloaked, save your breath."

On cue, Jensen decloaked besides Walker, leaning casually on the wall near the door. Walker was not amused. "I told you to stay in the car," she said.

"Well, I figured I'd keep an eye on you cloaked. Same difference."

"And you didn't think we'd spot the indentations your feet make on the carpet?" Walker said as the door unlocked.

Jensen shrugged. "And you didn't count on Nielsen not being in tonight. I guess we're all just a bunch of failures today."

The door opened, and the trio peered in. Tens of thousands of clumps of glowing crystalline snowflakes floated out of the door in a gust of wind. Garrus breathed some of the pollen in and sneezed.

"You might want to put your helmet on," Walker warned Vakarian. "Snowblind particles at those concentrations can be toxic, especially to turians."

Garrus silently complied and pressed a switch on this collar. Strips of programmable matter latched on his head, tucking his quills in, then sheets of metal and ceramic assembled themselves around his head, completely covering it. Meanwhile, Jensen put on his headset and called in the situation. He hoped the pollen that made its way into the hallway wasn't enough to jam his call. After all, Snowblind particles only disrupted communications if you tried to transmit inside a cloud of the stuff, or so he had heard.

"Kithoi Dispatch this is Detective Jensen, Detective Vakarian and I are investigating a concentration of Snowblind particles at Elyse Apartments, Building B's Penthouse suite, over."

The static lasted only a moment: "_...Message received._" droned a voice. It sounded almost bored. "_Do you...Need...Assistance?_" Jensen figured that Kithoi Dispatch patched him through to an Elcor operator or something.

"Maybe. Can you spare a couple of police cruisers as backup?"

_"...No."_

"Damn. Busy night, Dispatch?"

_"...Yesssss...vErY...BusY."_

Jensen's eyes widened. That did not sound good. Not good at all.

_"yOu...aRe...aLL..._**AloNE**_." _Jensen's ear was drowned in static, and then suddenly all the lights on the level shut down.

"Aaaah crap." said Vakarian through the speakers in his helmet. "This is not a good thing, is it? Jensen, when is that backup coming?"

"It's not! My comm is jammed and hijacked!"

Walker ran to the elevator, trying to summon it. "It's not responding." She tried prying the double doors open, but to no avail. Jensen tried to do the same, but stopped when he smelled the scent of burning plastic. "It's fused. Someone lined the door with soldering gel and switched it on when we came in."

"Ditto for the door to the stairs!" confirmed Garrus as he tried to open the door. "It's gotta be Nielsen's doing, she knew we were coming!"

"The door to the apartment is still open, though..." said Walker as she drew out her pistol. "Any of you get the feeling we're being railroaded into an unpleasant situation?"

Jensen drew the Cerebus pistol from its holster, keeping Sasha on standby. "We won't be able to call for help unless we take out the comm jammer. That apartment is as good as any place to look for it." Jensen double-checked his ammo and loaded a concussion round. "You ready?"

Garrus pulled out his Mongoose. "Always."

**~[h+]~**

The penthouse suite was a two story luxury residence, with white walls and a white carpet and frosted glass partitions framed in glass steel, all done in a Neo Art Nouveau style. Everything had a film of sparkling Snowblind pollen on it. Jensen attempted to scan everything with his Smart Vision, but all he got was error messages. Snowblind played havoc on any kind of sensor, including his internal radar. Thankfully, they didn't jam his normal vision.

The living room reminded Jensen of Hein's quarters, but while Hein's 'museum' pieces were bits and pieces of technological antiques, Nielsen's tastes lay in the somewhat macabre. Everything from the sculptures to the paintings we bound together by two central themes: Death and suffering. The only exception to the themes was the life-size porcelain statue of a naked woman sitting in a fetal position on a pedestal, its face covered by its knees. The fact that it was almost completely dark save from the Serpent's Nebula's gloom coming through the darkened glass made Nielsen's living room just that much more unsettling even with Jensen and Garrus' light amplifications turned on.

"I see this is how she spent her earnings from Hwang's deal." commented Walker. She shone an Omni-light on three paintings that caught her eye. They were all about a bearded man being beheaded in his bed by two women, one elderly, the other young. "The beheading of Holofernes. Caravaggio's, Trophime Bigot's and Artemisia Gentilesci's. Fake Originals, all three of them."

"Fake Originals?" asked Jensen, a bit confused. "You mean plain fakes."

"Not quite: Fake Originals are _perfect _imitations of the real thing, down to every brush stroke and every pigment. They are sold for a pretty penny, though not even for a tenth of what the original is worth."

"You're seeing a pattern, here, Jensen?" asked Garrus, nervous.

"Death, death and more death?" answered Jensen.

"No, no, I mean, the man getting his head cut-off...he kinda looks like _you._"

"...Let's just keep looking."

The second floor of the apartment was where Nielsen kept the bed, surrounded by a varied multitude of finely dressed porcelain dolls nailed the walls by like butterflies on display. They were all staring at the bed with eyes made out of black buttons. Walker was dead silent at this, and barely breathed.

"Nothing to say, Walker?" asked Jensen.

"I...I really _hate_ dolls." she said tersely.

"Well, after seeing this," said Garrus, a slight trembling in his voice. "I don't think I'll ever be able to look at one ever again either. _Spirits._"

A blinking red light caught Jensen's eyes. It was a phone, sitting on top of a commode. At the feet of the commode was a bundle of clothes: A white chemise, a red tie, a pinstripe business skirt meant to keep the legs nearly bare but cover the abdomen up to the solar plexus, and black lingerie. Jensen ignored the clothes and investigated the phone. It was still under power, no doubt thanks to an emergency battery. He switched it on, but all he got on the haptics was static.

"Damn, I was hoping for a landline." sighed Jensen.

Walker examined the phone more closely. "She would have cut it anyway...Hm, there's a message in the memory buffer." She pressed the play button, and Hwang's voice could be heard through the speakers. His speech was slurred, no doubt he had been hitting the bottle as soon as Jensen left.

_"Heeeey Diana!...Look, you've been, like, *hic* the best friend I could ever ask for so...here's a heads up: C-Sec's coming for you soon. They SAID *hic* you might be a killer but you know what? you know what?"_

_"Please, Rudy!" _It was the greeter's voice, pleading with Hwang._ "Don't do this, they're not going to out us!"_

_"Bullshit! I know his *hic* type!...goddamned knight in shining armor piece of...Where was I?...right, I DON'T BELIEVE THEM! So you run, Diana, you and I we're going to _ **-END OF MESSAGE.** _"_

The three investigators were dead silent for a moment, then Garrus voiced what everyone was thinking:

"We're going to get out of here, and then we're going to kill Hwang. Slowly."

"Wait, be quiet!" commanded Walker. "I hear something..."

Adam strained his ears. "Yeah, I hear it too...Like an old man wheezing...It's coming from that walk-in closet. Vakarian, we're going to stack up on that sliding door. Walker, stay besides me and don't go in there until I give the all-clear."

Jensen and Vakarian took positions on each side of the sliding door, with Jensen crouching on one knee. "On three, we move in and clear. One, two, three!"

Vakarian slid the door open as Jensen simultaneously shifted into the doorway. He visually combed the entire closet, keep his gun level with his sight. The closet, as it turned out, was only half-stocked with clothes. Its walls were lined with extra-net articles of high profile deaths - accidents and suicides - printed out on digital paper and framed. They were all signed 'Diana'. Besides the pictures, the most noteworthy thing in the room was a plant, with thick roots wrapped around a glowing green cylinder and a stamen the size of a football that swelled and shriveled at even intervals. It was the source of the wheezing.

Jensen parted the clothes hanging on the rack, looking for anything or anyone that might be hiding in there. He noted various articles of clothing for men, and wondered if Nielsen had a live-in boyfriend. Satisfied that there was no one here, he called out to Walker.

"Walker, there's something here, some kind of plant."

Walker's eyes widened in shock as she walked and saw the plant.

"That's...a Snowblind generator! God, I didn't know they could make them so small."

Jensen pointed at the green glowing cylinder. "That's a...Bio-capacitor, right? Didn't think plants needed so much electricity..."

"The plant itself? No, but the Snowblind pollen require an electric charge in order to be able to jam communications and scanners. Unplugging the power source won't stop the plant from spreading the pollen, you'll have to-"

Jensen activated his arm sword and sliced off the plant's flower. It started to shrivel and die almost immediately.

"Well, that's one problem dealt with." said Jensen. "How long before we can call for help?"

"About ten hours, once the pollen that are already out discharge their electric charge and start to disintegrate."

Jensen groaned. "Let's keep looking around. Maybe there's a way out of here we haven't found yet."

"Fat luck of that happening," said Garrus. "This place was built for the rich and paranoid, and the glass is rated against aircar crashes."

The investigative trio moved back to the living room downstairs, and they all stopped in their tracks. Something was different. Different and _wrong._

"Guys," asked Garrus quietly. "...Where did that statue go?"

Walker shone a light on where the statue had been sitting. It was, indeed, gone. "That was Nielsen...I think you were right when you said she was some sort of Shape-shifter, Jensen. I couldn't tell her skin apart from real porcelain..."

Jensen cursed under his breath. "Damn, I had a bad feeling about that statue...Eyes peeled everyone, and whatever you do, don't split up!"

"Do you hear that?" asked Walker. Jensen boosted his hearing and could make out the din of a shower, echoing through ceramic tiles.

"Not again! Where's it coming from _now_?" groaned Garrus in frustration. Jensen could tell he was beginning to lose his cool: Turians were renowned for their bravery under fire...but in the dark, stalked by an invisible enemy? Turians were just as susceptible to fear as anyone else.

"It's the shower. Let's check it out." ordered Jensen.

They carefully walked past the kitchen area and made their way to the bathroom door. Jensen and Vakarian stacked up on it, opened it, and scanned the room within with their weapons, ready to shoot at anything hostile.

The bathroom was fairly large, with a central bathtub/shower combination encased in a frosted glass cylinder that went all the way up to the ceiling. Jensen opened its sliding door, but all he got for his trouble was a cloud of steam. There was no one there.

"Room's clear." said Jensen as he turned off the shower. With little else to do but be wary, Jensen started investigating the contents of the bathroom. The medicine cabinet yielded the most interesting items: there was a bottle of something called _Aglea_, and a bottle of sunscreen.

"_Aglea_ is an anti-aging product made by Sirta," said Walker. "It's useful for any evidence-conscious criminal: it absorbs dead skin cells."

"I'm just curious why Nielsen needs sunscreen around here." commented Garrus. "I know you humans are kind of sensitive to UV, but the nebula absorbs ninety-nine percent of Widow's UV light."

Something inside Jensen's head finally clicked. _Sunscreen._ _Neo Kobe._ _The Corporate Wars._

"Everyone, if you see Nielsen...shoot to kill, not to wound. Hold nothing back. We're not even bothering with an arrest."

Garrus was a bit confused. He didn't mind killing murderers, but Jensen always kept killing as a last resort. "Jensen?"

"Just trust me."

They left the bathroom, and all three of them froze at the sound of a faint laughter.

_"Mousey-Mousey-Mous-"_

Garrus fired his Mongoose at some unseen shape hiding in the kitchen's shadows.

"How do you like THAT you cowardly little BITCH?!" shouted Garrus victoriously as he fired a few more shots into the shadows. Jensen wasn't even certain he was hitting anything.

"Calm down!" ordered Jensen as he boosted his eyes' light amplification. "There's no one there!"

"Like hell there isn't! I know I hit her!"

"You did." said Walker as she shone her light at the spot Garrus had been shooting. There was a trail of blood that led back to the living room. The trio followed the trail carefully, wary of an ambush. The trail ended right at the pedestal, and Garrus cursed in frustration. Jensen wondered if there wasn't some kind of secret passage under the pedestal, some emergency escape Nielsen used to get away. He pushed the piece of white marble, and crouched, feeling the portion of the floor where the pedestal had been with his fingers.

"Damn."

"What are you looking for?" asked Walker.

"An air vent, maybe...no such lu-" suddenly, he heard a drop splattering on his left shoulder. Jensen looked at his coat: It was red blood. Jensen then looked up at the source...

And saw Nielsen staring back at him with an insane gleam in her glowing red eyes. Her naked body, with a skin matching the texture of the ceiling, was facing down, but her limbs were dislocated and her clawed, skinless hands and feet were buried up to the phalanges in the ceiling's concrete. Jensen fired at her head immediately, with Walker and Vakarian following suit.

Nielsen let out an ear-shattering shriek as she let go of the ceiling and leapt down on top of Jensen, knocking him down with the force of a battering ram. Nielsen straddled him, pounced on him with her claws, tore at his chest and face. Jensen tried to defend himself by catching her wrists, but she turned the tables on him and seized his arms and pinned him down, destroying the Cerebus pistol along the way. Her jaw dislocated itself and her mouth distented, and from within that teethed blackness a cylinder peered out. From within that cylinder came the sound of a whirring turbine engine and the orange glow of a particle beam charging up.

"Kill it! Kill it now!" screamed Walker. Don't let it fire!"

"I'm TRYING!" shouted Garrus in response.

Walker and Vakarian kept firing on Nielsen, but she ignored their gunfire even as her flesh was torn off bit by bit, revealing the cold, unyielding black metal within. Nielsen pressed her mouth against Jensen's, the particle charge reached its apex...

Walker seized Nielsen's skull with one hand on its crown and another on its jaw, and pulled, causing the thin stream of charged particles to cut a swath through the furniture and the polarized glass wall. Nielsen tried to force the beam back on Jensen's head, and she was succeeding.

"Vakarian! Help me!" Walker shouted, as she tried to get a better handle on Nielsen by getting her in a headlock. Garrus came to her side and grabbed Nielsen by the temples and pulled even harder, turning the energy beam further away from Jensen's head.

Walker soon regretted her actions, as Nielsen's particle gun's built up heat started bleeding into the skull and then into Walker's skin. She screamed in pain, but did not let go. Nielsen laughed maniacally, knowing that Walker's flesh would yield soon enough.

"Stab her in the chest! Stab her in the chest!" Walker screamed.

Vakarian let go and switched on his Omni-Blade application and buried the flash forged silicon-carbide blade into Nielsen's chest again and again, hoping to hit something vital. Eventually, he hit Nielsen's primary power source and beam fizzled out. Nielsen, in response, let go of Jensen's arms and quickly seized both Walker and Vakarian by their heads. Her grip cracked Garrus' helmet and Walker's skull, and she threw them, one after the other, in opposite parts of the apartment. Vakarian was the lucky one: his whole body slammed against the wall of Holofernes, and he lost consciousness as his Mongoose clattered on the floor. Walker, on the other hand, found herself thrown through the thick partition of frosted glass that separated the living room and the kitchen. The broken shards of glass tore into Walker's body, and her spine cracked when it impacted against a marble counter-top.

She was as good as dead.

Nielsen was just about to finish off Jensen when she felt his leg wrap itself around her head. Jensen brought his leg down, slamming Nielsen's skull against the hard floor. The tables were turned, and before long Jensen was on top of Nielsen, punching her skull in. It would not yield to his blows, and she quickly tried regain the advantage by wrapping her legs around Jensen's abdomen and squeeze the life of out of him.

"Die! Die, goddamn you! DIE!" Jensen screamed in frustration. Fueled by adrenaline, rage, and now panic, he activated his arms swords and stabbed at Nielsen's neck, and her response was to screech in ecstasy. She flailed her arms uselessly, occasionally nicking Jensen's face with her claws, but she eventually stopped moving. Jensen, still running on fury, twisted off her head, snapping off a metallic spine and multitude of electric cables and fluid-filled tubes that spilled their contents on the floor. Nielsen's legs went limp, freeing Jensen from their grasp.

**"yOu...wILL...nEveR...fo-fo-forGEt...meeeee**_eeeee._**..." **said the disembodied head with a grin as the red light in its eyes faded into pools of dead black.

It was over.

Jensen breathed in hard, realizing that he had been holding his breath the entire time he was mauling Nielsen. Her head was still in his hand, and he reached in her mouth to tear out that damned particle gun, just to be sure. Then, he discarded the accursed thing, and leaned back into the floor, breathing even harder, trying to regain his composure.

Someone coughed and sneezed. It was Garrus, laying prone on the ground by the paintings. Jensen got up and hurried to his partner: his faceplate was broken, and he was breathing in the Snowblind that had been kicked up in the fight.

"Wha...Jensen?...Spirits, did...did we win?" Garrus managed to say through his labored breath Jensen propped him up and sat him up against the wall, and quickly sealed the breach by slapping Omni-Gel on the ruined helmet.

"Yeah, we did. It's over."

"Oh, Spirits! What in the hells was that, Jensen?! That...that thing!..."

"A Bioroid." answered Jensen, as he double-checked Garrus' filters. Satisfied they were intact, Jensen took out a hypo of Panacea and inserted in the Agent I's medical injection port.

"You...you knew?!"

"...I suspected. Nielsen's a newer model, I had no idea what she... what _it_ was capable of. Never mind that, she's dead. How about you? You think you're going to be alright? I still got some Medi-Gel if you need it." Jensen cursed the Snowblind particles hanging in the air. With them around he couldn't check for internal bleeding with his Omni-Tool. Not until ten hours.

"...I think I'll be fine. What about Walker? I th-" he coughed "...I think I heard her crash through glass?"

"...I think she's dead."

"Maybe...maybe not." Garrus coughed again. "Maybe you should...check. You owe it to her...she saved your..." and then, Garrus stopped talking.

"Vakarian?...Garrus?..." Jensen panicked silently for a moment at the thought of losing his partner after all these years, and kept his finger on his friend's pulse, making sure it stayed stable. After a minute, Jensen breathed a sigh of relief. He was still alive, though how long he would stay that way, he had no idea.

Following Garrus' suggestion, Jensen made his way to the kitchen, where Sarah lay unmoving in a pool of her own blood. Jensen grunted and held his sides all the way there: Nielsen had bruised his kidneys and cracked several ribs, and his Sentinel System was slow in repairing the damage. His energy reserves reported they were at five percent capacity; he had spent far too much energy trying to destroy Nielsen's skull and he wouldn't quite have enough to repair all of his internal damage. Three days of sleep deprivation finally caught up to him, and he stumbled a bit. Despite all that, he had no right to complain at the moment: The pool of blood around Sarah was simply too big, her body was riddled with glass and her neck bent awkwardly. There was simply no hope for her.

Her neck snapped back into place, and she gasped. Jensen pulled out Sasha and aimed it at her head, terrified at the thought that he had beaten one Bioroid only to have to deal with another. He pulled back Sasha's hammer, and took aim. Sarah stared at him, her look confused and almost...pleading.

_She saved your life, _he reminded himself. He put his weapon away, and knelt besides her, his pants soaking in her blood. She tried to get up, weakly moving her legs and arms, and confirming to Jensen that the damage to her spine was gone. she only managed to turn herself and lay on her back.

"Easy..." soothed Jensen. "Stay still...you lost a lot of blood."

"P-pull out...the glass..." she begged, her voice weak.

"If I do that-"

"I can't mend...if something...is in the way."

Jensen pulled one of the pieces buried in one of the less vital areas, and Sarah's flesh began to mend immediately. Jensen quickly proceeded to remove every shard he could find. When he was done, Sarah's skin became perfect again, with nary a scar, or even a burn, to mar her beauty.

"...What kind of gene-mods are those?"

"Not...Gene-mods."

"Are you augmented? Is this new type of Sentinel system?" he asked.

"...No," she answered again, weakly. "It's not...augmentation...if you're built that way from the beginning."

"Built?"

"...You ask...too many...goddamned...questions..." she started shivering uncontrollably. Jensen touched her wrist, taking her pulse. Her skin was cold to the touch, and her pulse was weak. He took off his leather coat and wrapped it around her body, then he sat down next to her and held her close, letting the heat from his body warm her. _My god, her skin is like ice, _Jensen thought as he suppressed his shiver.

"Don't you...dare...coddle me." she protested weakly through chattering teeth.

"Be quiet." he said as he pulled Sasha from his holster. He flicked his wrist, opening the gun. He double-checked the ammo, and flicked his wrist again to close the gun. Ten hours. He had to keep watch over his two partners for ten hours until the charge in the Snowblind pollen dissipated and he could call for help. Just ten, goddamned hours before he could leave this accursed place.

If another Bioroid came, Jensen wasn't certain six of Amnon's special .357s would be good enough to take it down...but that was fine.

All he would need were three.

**~[h+]~**

* * *

CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: FICTION: BIOROID

_A constant in the popular modern-day Biopunk science fiction genre, a bioroid (sometimes called a replicant) is essentially a biological robot designed to be an indistinguishable imitation of a living creature, usually a sentient. Fundamentally different from clones, they are used as a clumsy storytelling device by authors to conjure up philosophical questions about existence, although they never provide answers._

_In 'real life', Bioroids are a theoretical construct, the subject of a paper written by Dr Drago Pettrovich Madnar (of the Terran European Union) in 2024 on the subject of bypassing the Uncanny Valley entirely by grafting biological parts on a robot. Absolutely nothing came of his theories or research._

  
  


CODEX ENTRY: TECHNOLOGY: EARTH: MILITARY: SNOWBLIND PARTICLES

_The successor to the Snow-9 Comm jammer, the Snowblind particle is acrystalline form of pollen produced by a bio-engineered plant. Developed for use by Earth's various military organizations, they disrupt nearly all wireless transmissions and sensors (save for visual ones).Smaller than ordinary pollen, Snowblind particles only become visible to the naked eye when local concentrations become high, and appear similar to glowing snowflakes, hence the name._

_Snowblind was first encountered by the Council at the Battle of Shanxi. Admiral Yan Lo, who led the small Shadow Fleet, deployed and detonated several bombs laced with Snowblind in the middle of the Turian fleet, causing crippling chaos in the turian chain of command. The disabled sensors meant that Kinetic Barriers were unable to react to the attacks from the bombers and frigates of the much smaller Coalition fleet. Defenseless and unable to fire back, The turian fleet at Shanxi lost over a third of its ships before it could recover from the Snowblind attack. _

_Imrec (image recognition) and laser communications technologies were developed by the salarians to counter the electronic warfare threat posed by Snowblind, and turians are investing heavily in stronger ship (and hardsuit) armor to make up for temporarily ineffective kinetic barriers, with moderately successful results. Attempts to replicate the pollen have so far not been successful._

**~[h+]~**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of the Shepard's Killer Arc, with some extra chapters to set up the next one. 
> 
> Some trivia: Spherification is an actual thing, a technique devised by molecular gastronomers. What is molecular gastronomy? It's basically cooking, only with SCIENCE!


	17. Interlude: Memories of Neo Kobe.

**Tuesday, December 21, 2027 - Neo Kobe - Airport 7:40 PM**

Adam Jensen went past the crowded baggage cart and looked for his driver at Arrivals. Eventually, he found a dirty-blonde occidental holding up a sign with Adam's name written on it with a black marker. The man holding the sign was wearing a somewhat classical gumshoe getup with a brown trench coat over a white button shirt, black slacks and black shoes all brought together by a slightly eyecatching blue tie. It was probably Adam's CIA contact, and as he approached him he realized the agent had some striking green eyes.

"Hey there," greeted the man in the brown coat. "So, how was the in-flight entertainment?"

"I watched some eyestrain inducing cartoon based on the Count of Monte-Cristo." answered Jensen flatly. He was lying, of course. He had just listened to some music.

"And the meal? Did you take the chicken, like I told you, or the fish?"

"Neither, I picked the omelette," answered Jensen. The man smiled, content that Adam had succeeded the vocal challenge and held out his hand. Jensen shook it.

"Julian Seed." he said.

"Adam Jensen."

"Yep, I know who you are...This is usually the part where I tell you that I expected you to be taller...but damn, you really are a tall fella, aren't you?"

Adam wasn't quite in the mood for idle conversation. "Let's get this over with."

"Right to business, huh? My car's right outside once we're done with customs"

**~[h+]~**

**Highway 001 - 8:22 PM**

"Ahh...I love driving." said Julian as he drove the car into the tunnel. "The whole world just passes you by quietly in a cozy, warm little cabin. I do a lot good thinking like this..."

"It's also a good way to have a private conversation with no one eavesdropping," commented Jensen.

"Yeah...that too." Julian eyed his side and rear view mirrors, ensuring that they weren't being followed. While he did so, the car exited the Tunnel, and Jensen had a wonderful view of the wintry Neo Kobe skyline from his passenger seat. Festive lights glittered in the dark of night, and before long the lights became OLED signs reminding every passerby of the impending festivities and that they should really buying those Christmas presents right about now.

Neo Kobe. A city of half a million ethnically diverse citizens built on an artificial island. Somewhat incorrectly called japan's answer to Dubai and Hengsha, it was actually a grand social experiment. Japan, after suffering a major population implosion, decided that it would open its borders to immigration. The government, however, was extremely wary of the unrest that culture clash would cause, and Neo Kobe was created as a sort of "training ground" for the politicians and bureaucrats of the future Japanese government. The boost to the ailing Japanese economy was a nice bonus.

Julian, content that nobody was following them, asked Jensen to open the glove compartment. "You'll find a gun and a dossier in there. Take them."

The gun was an 8-shot Diamondback .357 revolver modified to handle explosive ammunition, along with some spare ammo. The dossier was mostly pictures of a white blonde haired woman at the waiting area of some kind of bank, getting more and more agitated and violent,. The last few images had her kill a desk clerk with her bare hands, then she tore off the flesh off of her own face, revealing...metal, before a squad of soldiers perforated her with holes.

"Two weeks ago at the United States' Neo Kobe embassy," Julian explained. "a woman named Lisa Cunningham came in to renew her passport. As you can see, it didn't turn out very well."

"...So, basically, a cyborg went nuts?"

"That wasn't a cyborg, at least not in the way you mean. It's an infiltration Bioroid: its brain was completely electronic. "

"Sounds more like a Terminator."

"Heh, yeah. Same concept: meat over metal...minus the austrian accent. Seriously though, up until she started going nuts nobody thought there was anything wrong with her at all: her speech was fine, her expression was fine...she was a perfect imitation of a human being."

"How'd she get past the metal detector?"

"Said she had Vrolik's Syndrome and had her bones reinforced with titanium. The guard didn't find a gun on her, so he let her through. Anyways, the NSA had their techs went over her remains: near as they can tell, all of it looks like a new generation of robotics and electronics developed by Volkov Cybernetics. Naturally, Volkov denied making the thing, but we at the CIA weren't exactly convinced. We sent a few agents in their headquarters in Novosibirsk...when they came back, they claimed that they found nothing."

"...You tested them, right? Made sure they were who they said they were?"

"Ha! They said you were a clever boy! Yeah, we did. And wouldn't you know it? They went nuts and tried to kill their handlers. Thankfully, we were prepared. Funny thing is...you know what really gave them away? Their skin tones...They were a bit paler than when they were dispatched, and they stank of sunscreen. We had their skin analyzed, and you know what we found out? That artificial skin of theirs can't stand the sunlight: they start developing melanoma if they stay exposed to UV radiation too long.

"I'd say that you got your proof right there."

"You'd think, but there are too many points at which these agents could have been snatched. We _believe_, we _suspect_, but we don't know that Volkov is behind it all.

"So what do you want from me?"

"The _Matryoshka_, a Volkov cargo ship, is due to arrive here tomorrow at noon. Since it is transmitting the proper codes and without proof we can't convince the JMSDF to stop or even sink the boat. Once it makes port, you're going to infiltrate it and find any evidence that will let us finger Volkov. If you succeed, th-"

"-then the CIA will be very very grateful to Sarif Industries, and if I get caught SI gets blamed for corporate espionage. I know the score." Jensen didn't show it, but he was unnerved by the thought of him being replaced by an insane doppelganger, which was a likely possibility.

"Well, that's the briefing. You can find all the intel you'll need in the folder. And keep the gun: that thing's the only thing that can punch through a Bioroid's skull."

"I'd rather have an armour piercing Zenith: their 10mm Auto rounds pack a better punch than .357s and with a silencer on I won't alert the whole damned ship."

"True, but the main processor in the skull is the only reliable way to take them down, and its a pretty small target. That high explosive they pack in those special .357s pretty much guarantees the thing's brains are going to get junked. Trust me, that Diamondback will do the trick. Hey, you hungry?"

"Yeah, the in-flight meal wasn't...substantial."

"Haha! I'll just bet! I heard you cyborgs had healthy appetites! Hey, there's this thing you have GOT to try..."

**~[h+]~**

**Plato's Market - Food Stand 8:52 PM**

"Alright, my man! Two Neo Kobe Pizzas!" Julian cheerfully ordered.

"Coming right up!" answered the cook. He served up, much to Jensen's confusion, two slices of pepperoni pizza along with two big bowls of miso soup. "You gotta drop it in the soup yourself, okay?"

"You folks dip your pizzas in soup around here?"

"Yep!" answered Julian as he dropped his slice in his bowl, keeping the slice down with a pair of chopsticks. Jensen imitated him, having no experience in eating the local dish. "Don't soak in too much soup, or it'll get bland and soggy."

After a while, both Julian and Jensen took their pizzas out of their soups, and damn it, Jensen had to admit, the thing was actually pretty tasty. He ordered two more slices along with a cola, and drank up the rest of the soup straight from the bowl.

"Pretty good, right?" Julian asked with a smile.

"Yeah...who came up with this?"

"No idea. But that kind of mixed cooking is pretty common around here: the Neo Kobe government gives subsidies to restaurants that combine foods from different ethnic groups together."

"Why?"

"To help prevent segregation. The Japanese government studied the problem of clashing cultures in a population, and one of the criticisms they leveled against the West is letting ethnic groups self-segregate."

"Hm. Last I checked the Japanese weren't exactly keen on foreigners themselves."

"They can't afford that attitude, not anymore. The population of _Yamatos_ has dipped thirty percent in the last decade or so due in no small part to disease, natural disasters, emigration and well, a general disinterest in fucking. Thirty percent of the remaining population is made up of the elderly...and only twenty percent are kids...The future looks bleak, and Prime Minister Asami sees the writing on the wall. He's looking to create a hybrid culture in Neo Kobe by making sure the immigrants mingle and mix with each other as much as possible...But ah man, listen to me go on. How do you like your pizza with a scoopful of politics, eh? " Julian laughed good-naturedly.

"Sounds like you really admire what this Asami is doing with the place. You've been living here long?"

"Hold on..." Julian finished his soup, and patted his stomach, satisfied. "Moved out here with my family abouuuut... three years, now. Gotta say, I love the place! There's an energy here you just don't get in Hengsha, you know? Hengsha's got that gloomy, oppressive feeling when you live in the ground level, and that sterile, brave-new-world atmosphere on top."

Having been to Hengsha himself, Jensen couldn't help but to agree with the man.

"Now then," said Julian as he paid his share of the bill. "Let's get you a room for the night. You got a big day tomorrow!"

**~[h+]~**

**Wednesday, December 22nd - Elysium Hotel - Room 108 - 8:12 AM**

Jensen, surly at being woken up as he had only managed to go to sleep some four hours ago, answered the pestering, ringing, _damnable_ phone.

"Hello?"

"Jensen?" asked the voice of Julian Seed. "We have a problem."

"What is it?"

"The _Matryoshka_ docked early, and the people we bribed to stonewall the crew, well, they got a better offer. They unloaded their cargo in one of the port's warehouses. Place was rented by some doctor named Chin Shu Oh to store some ah, '_medical supplies'._"

"So what do I do now?"

"WE are going to check the warehouse out."

"We? You're coming with me?"

"Yep. I figured you could use someone watching your back. Besides, I'm not the mission control type."

"...I thought the CIA wanted plausible deniability. If you get caught-"

"Caught where, exactly? Some storage shed Volkov doesn't even own? The FSB can't bitch at us for violating the privacy of one of a Russian company if said company is doing clandestine shit. Clean yourself up, it's showtime!"

**~[h+]~**

**Underground Volkov facility - 12:27 PM**

Julian and Jensen had snuck and fought their way into the heart of the complex, and this is what they found: rows and rows of pods overlooking a pit nine stories deep. Some of the pods were for storage, others where meant to grow the artificial skin these Bioroids needed to pass for human straight onto their endo structure. There were so many of them...Hundreds, maybe thousands of them, and the machines inside them were, thankfully, all asleep.

"Jesus..." said Julian. "There's a whole army of them...hey wait! Is that...Is that Mayor Hojo? and Prime Minister Asami?!"

"And most of these skins are shaped to resemble Asians - It's obvious Volkov wants to control the Japanese government...But that's just a means to an end. Why?"

"I'm guessing the Russians want in on Japan's newfound economic growth...and then you got Tokugawa Heavy Industries. Having the Prime Minister as a puppet just handing Volkov defensive contracts, their competition is pretty much screwed! You taking snapshots of this?"

Jensen pointed at his eyes. "Yeah. But we're going to need something more substantial if we're going to put the finger on Volkov. Let's-" Jensen's eyes widened under as red blips appeared all over his radar. "Aw crap."

"What?" asked Julian. His answer came in the form of more security spiders coming through the vents. "Aw, not more of these blasted things! Shoot them!"

**~[h+]~**

"CAPTURE HIM, MY CHILDREN!" screamed Madnar from his life-support throne. "DESTROY THE TRAITOR, AND BRING ME THE FLESH OF ADAM JENSEN! BRING IT TO MEEEEE!"

"Jensen..." groaned Julian. "Leave me behind...You don't have time, the self-destruct..."

"Like hell." Jensen was carrying Julian on his back, shooting every naked Bioroid standing in his way with his Diamondback. He had saved Jensen's life when it would have been so much easier to do nothing, and Jensen did not leave a debt like that unpaid. "We're going to make it." He said as he destroyed the electronic brains of yet another Bioroid as it attempted to shoot him with its Needler Skull-gun. "We're going to make it..."

**~[h+]~**

**Neo Kobe docks - 13:57 PM**

The warehouse exploded far behind him, and thus Jensen and Seed had succeeded in stopping the aspirations of a madman. Jensen set Julian down, and stared at the blaze...he could hear the anguished screams of a thousand artificial children, who had known nothing but the quiet blackness of sleep, now awakened by the burning agony of fire. Some of the Bioroids shambled out as their cancerous flesh burned off, and they fell as their circuits gave out under the heat of the flames. The sights, sounds and smells of this inferno would haunt Jensen's dreams for a long time...of that, he was certain.

"I'm...sorry," Julian groaned behind Jensen. He knelt besides his partner, and checked his damage. The Connaught rifle's green bloom had slagged his knee, burnt a hole in his chest, and burnt off the left side of his face, revealing the molten, dull gray metal. "I...I didn't know, Jensen!...I didn't even know I was leading you into a trap!"

"...It's okay. I'll get you to Sarif Industries..." Jensen held Julian's hand "We'll fix you."

Julian choked out a laugh. "Liar...Heh, we both know what's going to happen...to me if-if-if Sarif gets his hands on me. No...No, this is better." Julian weakly led Jensen's hand to his chest. "Left...Pocket."

Jensen reached into the coat and pulled out a wallet. Inside was a picture, Julian's family: A beautiful, brown-haired woman, a young boy and Julian, all smiling happily. "Make sure... they're looked after, okay? I...I..."

"I will. Don't you worry."

"Oh god, Jensen...I can feel something burning in the back of my head...Madnar's voice, screaming at me to kill you!..."

"You had your chance...Why didn't you take it?"

"I-I don't know...something...Something started whispering to me ever since I met you...Something...beautiful...so faint...it's... so loud now...you have no idea...how..." Tears flowed from Julian's remaining tearduct, and his eyes widened briefly as the green light left the Bioroid's eyes. His face went slack. Julian was no more.

Jensen could hear sirens off in the distance. He activated his cloak, and ran away as fast as he could.

**~[h+]~**

**Thursday, December 23rd - Unknown facility - 2:12 AM**

Jensen hated those EMP shackle chairs, but Hans Decker had wanted to make sure Jensen was still (mostly) human. A black woman with cold gray artificial eyes sat in the corner of the dark room and stared at Jensen the whole time Decker interrogated him. After a few hours, she simply said. "He believes what he says is true."

Decker, at this, pulled out a remote and deactivated the chair, freeing Jensen from its grasp. He motioned Jensen to sit at the table, and offered him a glass of water and a cyberboost bar. Jensen sat down, downed his so-called meal in a few seconds, and finally took the opportunity to ask a question, for once.

"Did you check on Julian's family?" he asked the brown suited G-man as the gray eyed woman left the room.

Decker chuckled at that. "Really? the first thing you ask me about is how your betrayer's family is doing?" he sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. "You know, _this_ is what keeps me wondering how come you're still alive. That kind of bleeding heart? It's not a survival trait in the spy business. And yet, here you are, alive and well after going balls deep in Tai Yong's dirty laundry. I'm impressed."

"My augs make up for the...handicap."

"No. No they don't." Decker smiled. "In any case, we checked on Julian's family. We found them..."

"Good."

"...buried alive. There were three corpses locked in the basement, one picked clean of flesh - the real Julian's - and two others, a boy and a woman, still rotting. Julian's cause of death was obvious: his skull had been crushed. As for his wife and child, well..." Decker scratched his nose, and continued. "They died months ago. As far as we can tell, the house had been lived in quite recently. What does that tell you, hm?"

Jensen became sullen at this.

"Oh do cheer up, Mister Jensen!" exclaimed Decker, disingenuously. "You stopped a plot to subvert an entire nation! You should be proud. And while you didn't quite get the evidence we required to take all of Volkov out legally, your report and recordings will be more than enough motivations for my superiors to order a raid of Volkov's assets in America. As per our deal, Sarif will be getting a fair share of the spoils, and as for you..." He handed Jensen a dossier. "we brought you one step closer to your _Dulcinea_."

Jensen opened the file, and inside were a dozen pictures of Megan Reed, dressed in a black coat and with her hair down, disembarking from the_ Matryoshka _with two pale skinned bodyguards flanking her.

_You've lost her, Jensen!...Men like us...we never get back the things we love..._

"Is she...is she here?"

"I'm afraid not. Those pictures were taken in Vladivostok weeks ago and she hasn't boarded the vessel ever since she left it. As far as we can tell, she vanished into thin air." Decker got up to leave. "You're welcome to go look for her there, if you like. But I'm afraid her trail has gone cold. Your pilot friend is waiting for you at your hotel. Have a nice flight, Mister Jensen." He opened the door, stopped for a moment. "By the by, do try and keep in touch. Our deal is not over yet and we might need your talents very soon." And with that, Decker left Jensen alone to ponder his next move.

**~[h+]~**

* * *

CODEX ENTRY: HISTORY: EARTH: 21st CENTURY: CORPORATE WARS.

_Shortly after the Panchaea incident turned public opinion against human augmentation, biotech companies found the civilian market for biomodification nearly all dried up, leaving them with only government contracts as viable revenue. With only so many of those to go around, each of the corporations heavily or exclusively invested in biotech started a campaign of espionage and sabotage against their competition. Eventually, the sabotage escalated to hostilities, with one company hiring mercenaries to cause irreparable damage to another. This culminated in early 2029 with the release of a bio weapon developed by Parasol Labs into the population of Macon, Georgia. Over a hundred thousand civilians died, causing a public scandal._

_When the dust had settled, only three companies involved in the conflict remained: Tokugawa Heavy Industries, Versalife, and Sarif Industries. SI received most of the public's ire, and the company folded shortly after. Little did anyone at the time know, Sarif had himself and a portion of his personel preserved and technology in an old Cold War nuclear shelter. _

**~[h+]~**


	18. Settling Old Accounts

** In a dark, circular room barely lit by strips of OLEDs mounted on the ceiling, Octavian Adolfas Pallin was being given the rare honor of a private audience with the three representatives the major powers of the galaxy. The three of them sat some distance away from him at a regal silver desk, while he sat at a glossy black table at the controls of a holographic presentation detailing the thorough examination of the remains of Diana Nielsen, the thing responsible for the deaths of Junko Zayne Shepard, Kaidan Alenko, and probably countless others dismissed as 'accidents'. **

"The endo-skeleton is designed to adjust its size. The range is limited, and we believe Nielsen couldn't impersonate anyone below one meter fifty or above one meter eighty in size. Strips of bucky gel at the joints provides most of the synthetic's motor power - the muscles, along with other organs, are there mostly to add to the illusion."

"Any armaments?" asked Sparatus.

"It is armed with retractable mono-molecular edge claws mounted in the fingers," recited Pallin, "and a collapsible continuous particle beam gun in the mouth, hidden just under where the brain should be. The power for that comes from a small power plant mounted inside the chest. As for defense...the bulletproof metal has been alloyed with element zero, any biotic attack against it causes the metal to resonate sympathetically with the biotic field, making it disperse harmlessly over the synthetic's frame."

Valern could barely contain his surprise. "That...impossible. The Salarian Union's metallurgists have tried to create Element Zero-based alloys for centuries. It can't be done."

"And yet," said Sparatus, "here it is. _We_ may not be able to do it, but the Geth might. Look at the curves on the skeleton, it resembles what we've seen of their design philosophies thus far."

"Perhaps," agreed Tevos. "What have your technicians been able to glean about its programming?" she asked Pallin.

"The synthetic wiped its databanks clean. What my techs have been able to tell about the processor is that its structure is unstable. They estimate that any AI designed to simulate a sentient running on the hardware would begin to degrade and exhibit aberrant behaviour within four or five years."

"I'm curious about the skin." asked Valern. "You said it was designed for camouflage?"

"According to Jensen's report, the synthetic's skin matched the texture of a cement ceiling as well as polished porcelain perfectly. We believe it could also alter its appearance completely: the synthetic hairs can apparently change their color, as well. The skin isn't perfect: It is two hundred percent more susceptible to UV radiation and exposure to Medi-Gel causes it to develop tumors. I hope now that you understand why I insisted on scanning you with my Omni-Tool. According to Jensen, machines similar to this, though far less advanced, were used in a corporation's plot to subvert one of Earth's governments a century ago."

"A wise decision," commented Valern. "One can never be too careful...perhaps we should begin to screen our administration medically?"

"Do you believe that there are more of these...Bioroids in the Citadel?" asked Tevos uncomfortably.

"...I honestly don't know. It could have been a single assassination asset, or part of a larger plot to take over the Citadel. With the Bioroid's memory completely erased, we have no way of knowing for sure."

"I think we can safely blame this one on Saren and the Geth." said Sparatus, sighing.

"Between the incredibly advanced robotics but deeply flawed organic technology? Definitely." agreed Valern.

"It's also quite possible they used Prothean technology to create this machine's alloy...after all, Saren has been interested in Prothean ruins since long before he went rogue." Tevos rose from her seat. "Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Executor Pallin. The Spectres will be taking this matter into their hands from here on out. Every file you have on the Geth Bioroid is to be surrendered to them, and every member of C-Sec involved in this case, yourself included, are to keep quiet about this threat or face punishment under the conditions of the Citadel Official Secrets Act.

"We...aren't going to warn the general populace about this threat?" asked Pallin.

"And what would telling them that the Geth can make synthetics that mimic humans accomplish?" said Sparatus, his expression dark. "There would be panic on the streets of the Citadel! Innocent humans would be killed in witch hunts, and the Order Church would have an excuse to start a campaign of terror against anything non-human. No, we will most certainly NOT tell the general populace about this."

"This situation requires a more delicate - and subtle - touch." agreed Tevos. "Is there anything else you wish to discuss, Executor?"

"Yes." answered Pallin. "There's the matter of funding. Those budget cuts you're imposing on us...they are making it more difficult for us to keep the peace."

The three councilors shared a confused look. Valern spoke first. "The recent riot notwithstanding, we were under the impression that crime was lower than ever thanks to your efforts. If anything C-Sec should have too much money on its hands. Perhaps a few layoffs are in order?"

"There is more to the Citadel's criminal situation than just the reports. I will admit we've had a few good years lately but that won't last. The humans are coming up with newer, cheaper tech every year and a lot of it makes it way on the streets. We've had to deal with Krogans wrapped in non-Newtonian gel armour and fully automatic _shotguns,_ and I've lost over six hundred agents in the past year alone. And now, we may very well need to deal with more of _these._" he pointed at a hologram of the Nielsen Bioroid for emphasis. "If one of my agents encounters a Bioroid in a dark alley, an Agent mk 1 and a Kessler isn't going to save his _skin, _especially since he's not allowed know a thing about what he's facing."

"That is why you have a Special Response team, Executor." said Tevos. "They receive the very best equipment you can afford, no?"

This, _this_ was why Pallin hated dealing with the Council: they could be so very out of touch. He didn't blame them for it, though. After all, the only way for a trio of sentients to manage a galactic supranational union was by digesting filtered and incomplete information through a computer screen and making grossly general decisions. He was still a bit galled by their apparent calm: He was, after all, trying to warn them of the dangers of lurking in their own backyard.

"That's not how it works: If an agent dies before he can report the presence of a Bioroid then Special Response can't do anything at all. Worse still, C-Sec loses a good man and whoever controls these things gets another infiltrator in the organization. This very well nearly happened to two of my detectives AND an Alliance Intel agent. We need better weapons and armour! My men need to know about the enemy so that they can be more vigilant!"

"No." said Tevos flatly. "Executor. This is _not_ some Terminus fiefdom, this is the Citadel, and the Citadel is meant to be a shining example of civilization. What example will we set if we outfit our police officers like soldiers and have them patrol the streets? "

"And if over two hundred thousand men and women are aware of this...situation," commented Valern, "then it won't be long before the rest of populace does, as well."

"Our civilization is built on trust," Tevos continued, "and once the people stop trusting us and each other, then chaos will ensue."

Pallin let out a snort of contempt. "So be it." Pallin dismissed the holographic presentation, save for the nightmarish image of Nielsen's severed head. "I certainly hope that _trust_ will be foremost on your mind when you decide whether or not you lock your bedroom door when you go to sleep tonight, Councilors." And without even asking his leave, he left.

**~[h+]~**

As the door closed behind Pallin, Tevos cradled her face and sighed. "**Goddess**, this is the last thing we need to deal with right now." She dismissed the ghastly hologram. "The Terminus systems are on the rise, the Batarian Theocracies are ready to declare a Blood War on all of humanity, THE prime candidate to be the first human Spectre dies at the very HEART of Council space shortly after surviving an attack by the GETH, the nations of Sol now each want a Spectre, and, oh yes, the_ Geth can now mimic sentients perfectly?_"

"Pallin did have a point," said Sparatus, sighing as he relaxed into his seat. "The whole of C-Sec can't defend us if they aren't on the lookout against this type of synthetic."

"Assuming, of course, that Mr Jensen did not just kill the only one." said Valern. "_This_ is what the Spectres are for. _They_ will be on the lookout. _They_ will tell us is there truly is a major threat."

"I would feel better," said Tevos. "If our friends at the Special Tasks Group are made aware of this potential threat."

"Of course," said Valern. "I've already forwarded Pallin's files to my contacts in STG."

"And perhaps we should leave C-Sec's budget alone, as well..." said Sparatus. "Cutting any more funding might cause more problems in the long run..." the Turian councilor looked pensive.

"Is something bothering you?" asked Tevos.

Sparatus conjured up the images of the Bioroid. "I know I said the machine looks Geth, but what you two said about the metal...are you certain that only Protheans could alloy element zero?"

Velarn answered first: "I take great pride in keeping up with my people's scientific journals, and it simply can't...well, _couldn't_ be done."

"As for me..." Tevos pulled up a file on her datapad and handed it to Sparatus. "I've read a paper by Benezia's daughter. She theorizes that the ancient Protheans were capable of liquefying and even crystallizing element zero. Alloying it with a metal would not be out of the question.

Sparatus skimmed over the article. "...I'm not really liking her evidence. She's basing this solely on their artwork?"

"Dr T'soni has made some very interesting observations on Prothean culture based on their art alone. She may not earn the recognition she deserves being...what she is, but several other archaeologist on Thessia had wound up proving her theories in their attempts to disprove them."

"If that's the case...Saren would be very interested in getting her to work for him. If he's managed to unearth something that renders biotics nearly useless, who knows what he could find with T'soni at his side. We must have her brought to us as soon as possible, or at the very least deny Saren another potential asset."

"Agreed." said Tevos. She turned to Valern. "Do we have any Spectres to spare for an extraction mission? My contacts at the university of Thessia tells me she was headed for Caleston."

Valern nodded, understanding her meaning. Caleston was well within the Traverse and far too close for comfort to the Terminus systems. Unrest on the planet was rampant. "Jondum Bau is available. He's finished recovering in Shalta from wounds sustained on his last mission, and he should be more than able to handle a mission like this."

"Excellent," said Tevos. "Contact him immediately."

Valern began writing a quick email on his Omni-Tool.

"Speaking of Spectres...have we decided on who will have the honor of..." Sparatus made quotes in the airs with his fingers. "..._bringing Saren to justice?_" The truth behind Sparatus' sarcasm was that the council was not willing to wait for the selection process of a new Spectre to respond to the threat of Saren and his army of Geth. They had already mobilized assets to sabotage him as much as possible. The first human Spectre's real duty would be simply to capture him once the STG and the Turian Frumentarii had cornered him.

Tevos sighed. "There is simply too many candidates to choose from, and we would have to assign a Spectre to evaluate each of them. I'm partial to Ramsus, due to the relative neutrality of the Alliance in Terran affairs."

"Hmph...Well, you know who has my vote."

Valern finished typing and sent the encrypted e-mail through a safe channel and smiled "Ah yes, and I'm quite surprised you would give out your recommendation for a human, Sparatus. Perhaps you've been watching too many of this Mister Weltall's vids, hm?"

Sparatus, oddly enough, felt the need to defend his position. "If anyone has earned the right to become the first human Spectre, it is most certainly Jensen. The man has dealt with some of the vilest elements of Citadel space and came back for seconds without so much as a _complaint_. Meanwhile, Commander Shepard, ever true to her species, started running her big mouth at us for not indulging her wild accusations on the spot..."

"Sparatus," Tevos spoke firmly. "We've talked about this already, the political situation surrounding Jensen..."

"Bah! I know! Honestly, I doubt just giving humans an Alliance aligned Spectre will make humanity happy: they'll find _some_ way of complaining. Mark my words, nothing short of giving each Terran nation on Earth a Spectre will make satisfy the lot of them."

"Goddess, no! The situation would have to be dire to consider that as a possibility..."

"How dire a situation?" asked Sparatus.

"The sudden death of four of our Spectres at once?" suggested Valern, half-jokingly.

"_Please,_" dismissed Tevos. "The likelyhood of that-" but then she reconsidered uttering that sentence.

**~[h+]~**

_Something was wrong about this place._

_It was a cold autumn in this forest filled with dead trees of blackened bark, black branches veining a foggy gray sky. Fallen_

_dead leaves cracked under the pressure of Adam's footfalls, adding an echoing texture to the faint howl of the wind...and the whispers of unseen strangers that stalked a lonely, lost quarry._

"_Hello?" Adam's voice echoed. "Is anyone out there?" _

_"Adam..." pleaded Julian's distant voice. "look after them...please..."_

"Julian?" called out Adam. He looked frantically around but saw no one. "Where are you?!"

_"For God's sake, Adam..." pleaded Faridah, tears welling up in her eyes. "Stop...It's just not worth it..."_

"Faridah?..."

_"You've lost her, Jensen!" taunted Namir. "Men like us... We never get back the things we love..."_

_"None of this would have happened if you'd just STOPPED." accused Quinn. "All these deaths, and all the deaths that will follow because of this PLAGUE...It's all on YOU, bratán! It's all on you!..."_

_..._

_"...You were nothing more than a science project to me."_

_..._

_"MY CHILD WILL NEVER BE YOURS! HE WILL BE THE ONE TO LEAD US INTO THE DAY, WHILE YOU WILL LINGER IN THE SHADOWS, FOREVER!"_

_..._

_"Alif...Don't be afraid." _

_The blade struck, and little Alif cried for his mother._

_..._

_Jensen wandered the forest, his feet sluggish, his steps faltering, as he listened to the echoes of his distant past, never once defending himself against their accusations and ignoring their pleas. He didn't really want to escape, not anymore. He needed the reminder, needed to remember what he had to atone for. Just as he knelt on the dirt, the forest of dead trees became a field of wheat. It was his field, his own little lot in Elysium._

_And his house of stone on the distant hill._

_"Look, at it!" said Reynolds, awed. "Perfect for that little herd of tykes you and Fahl have got yourselves, just say the word and it's all yours."_

"No, please..." quietly begged Jensen. "I don't want to see this."

_Jensen could hear the sound of children playing in the distance like unseen ghosts, coming from everywhere at once. _

_"Adam..." the voice belonged to a lost love he had not truly deserved. "Wake up...the children are hungry..."_

_"Aw... just a few more minutes..." groaned Adam's disembodied voice from the house on the hill. "The kids can cook breakfast themselves..." Adam laughed...and as Jensen heard it he found the sound so alien: when had he ever laughed so...happily before? He couldn't remember. Fahl answered with that wonderful laugh of hers, and the sound of sheets being pulled away and the sound of a man falling off the bed echoed from the house on the hill._

_..._

_"It's just me, now..." said little Sunny. "all the other kids...their parents came back for them." _

_"You'll always have us, Sunny." said Adam, reassuringly._

_"Always?"_

_"Always. I promise."_

_..._

_"Off to help the needy once more?" asked Fahl._

_"It's coin in the purse, and food on the table until i can harvest that wheat..." said Adam._

"No, don't go!..." shouted Adam. _The wheat surrounding him started to catch fire. A church bell tolled._

"_...Just be wary." said Fahl, concerned. "Sunny and I always worry when you're not home."_

_"I'll be fine! Don't you worry about me..."_

"No, don't leave them on their own!" pleaded Jensen. "They're coming!"

_He made his way to the house on the hill as it caught on fire, but just as he reached the door, the church bell tolled again, the earth shook, and broke under his feet, creating a wide chasm between him and his old home. The wound in the earth healed, and Jensen was right back where he started._

_It was getting hotter, and the orange of the blaze began to taint the dark grey sky._

**"You have committed a crime most heinous." ** _the inquisitor's voice boomed. _ **"You, Alien whore, have lain with a machine and called it your husband."**

"Leave them alone!"

**"And you, child, have called a machine your father.**

"It's me you want!"

**"What punishment would fit such a terrible crime, my Templars?!"**

"No..."

**"BURN THEM!"**

_"Adam," called out Fahl weakly...they had beaten her so badly..._

"Fahl, FAHL! I'M HERE!" Adam ran for the burning house, but the earth beneath his feet stayed cruel.

**"BURN THEM!"**

_"Daddy! Daddy where are you?!" screamed Sunny as the flames started to lick her skin"_

**"BURN THEM!"**

"Sunny? SUNNY! Oh god, NOOOO!"

_Jensen leapt over the newly formed chasm and caught the edge, his feet dangled into the void before gaining footing on the stone wall. He mantled, and ran up to the burning house's heavy wooden door and yanked it away with all his might. Inside were the figures of a woman with her limbs broken futilely shielding a tiny body from the heat. They were frozen in eternal agony, their flesh blackened by the heat. _

**BURN!**

**BURN!**

**BURN!**

_Jensen simply fell to his knees and let the fire take him. The bell tolled, the earth shook, and Jensen could feel himself falling as his flesh burned and his metal turned to liquid, and closed his eyes._

_When he opened them again, he was surrounded by blackness, the debris of his home fell alongside him and his intact arms and blades were covered in blood._

_Jensen could hear the voice of the Inquisitor. Oh, how he had made the man bleed._

**"You shall...know, no peace, Abomination! I am but one of a whole dedicated to your eternal punishment and-"** _The inquisitor made but a lame gurgling and Jensen _**squeezed.**_ Oh, how Jensen had made him pay, him, and all of the men that followed him... _

_Suddenly, a blinding light overwhelmed his eyes._

_A plain of ash and fire._

_A shrine to all life._

_A sea frozen in time._

_A castle in the sky._

_Visions came and went, of events of a war long past and events of a conflict soon to come. They streaked before his sight, and when they were gone the sight of a masked man in regal tanned robes greeted Adam in the weightless dark. His voice thundered, and yet soothed Adam so deeply the pain of his recent nightmare almost bled away from him. _

**"ADAM...DON'T BE AFRAID."**

But before Aleph could speak again, the phone rang, and Adam woke up.

**~[h+]~**

The ringing hit Jensen's ears like an explosion, and he opened his eyes. His head and torso were covered in cold sweat, his brain was on fire, and his heart was still racing from the dream. He sat up on his bed, cradled his face, and finally pushed the big flowing holographic button that his apartment's VI was helpfully shoving in his face.

"Jensen here."

"We have a couple of problems." said Pallin over the phone.

"Can this wait? I got morning breath and I'm coated in sweat."

A pregnant beat passed before Pallin answered that one.

"...I'll be brief: the Spectres will be taking over the Nielsen case, and We've all been slapped with the COSA. We can't talk about what Nielsen really is."

"I can't say that I'm shocked. The you-know-whats is a VIPs worst nightmare. Here's to hoping the Spectres will be able to figure out who was pulling Nielsen's strings."

Pallin sighed. "The Council is already blaming the Geth."

"...The hell? I told you-"

"-I know what you told me. They're still blaming the Geth."

"...Of all the moronic bull-"

"Jensen, you have to understand something: the only way for three people to manage a union of a trillion sentients is by macro-management. The council thinks in incomplete, racialist terms. When the Geth first ran amok, the council wasn't interested in punishing those responsible for the whole mess: they cast blame on the entire race. That's just one of many examples."

"So when they encounter a machine that's too weird they automatically blame the Geth, too?"

"As you say. The fact that the machine was built with an incredibly advanced alloy lends some credence to the conclusion...but just between you and me? I'm not convinced it was the Geth. The way you describe Nielsen's...insane behavior...It doesn't sound like what I've heard about the Geth at all."

At that moment Jensen wanted nothing else than to burst into the Council chambers and tell them exactly what he thought about their so-called logic, but that would accomplish nothing. And once a Spectre took over your case, well...

No, he would stay calm.

"I take it those spooks took everything on my desk already?" asked Jensen.

"Yours, Garrus'...hell, they even had a look at mine."

"What about Walker? I take it they're interviewing her right now?"

"...That's...What I wanted to talk to you about. Can't do it over the phone, meet me in my office at the embassies. Pallin out.

The call disconnected, and Jensen brought up his to-do list on his AR interface:

_-Pick up the Special Ammo at Amnon's,_ crossed out.

_-Arrest Hwang,_ crossed out.

_-Punch Hwang when no one's looking,_ crossed out.

_-Do your Paperwork,_ crossed out.

_-Check car for bugs, _crossed out.

_-Check car for bombs, _crossed out.

_-Pick up favorite coat at dry-cleaners,_ crossed out.

_-Triple check security,_ crossed out.

_-Get some goddamned sleep._

_-Check on Garrus._

_-Check on Sarah._

He crossed out the third to last entry, and added "Meet with Pallin" before "Check on Garrus." When the Executor called, that meant ASAP. Of course, that didn't stop Jensen from taking a shower, making himself a nice breakfast, and taking a few minutes to decide which outfit to put on. He settled on dark pants, a white button shirt, a blue tie and his signature dark blue leather coat. He loaded Sasha with the Red Rounds, holstered the weapon, and left for the Presidium.

**~[h+]~**

The way to Pallin's office had been...a bit nerve-wracking. After that encounter with the Bioroid, Jensen began to suspect everyone that got too close to him of being one. At first he turned on his Smart-Vision occasionally, scanning people with his eyes. But after a while? He simply would not turn it off. When he finally arrived at Pallin's door, he had drained away five percent of his power reserves. He decided it was time to turn it off...for a while.

He reached for the door bell, but the door opened on its own. Inside the office, Pallin was arguing with a european man in a black business attire, with well groomed dark hair. Jensen scanned them both with his Smart-Vision: Pallin was still himself, much to Jensen's relief, and the suit was completely organic save for the white dots of element zero and the necessary implant suite that allows a human to create and manipulate Biotic fields.

There was a piece of jewelery around his neck under his clothes, and Jensen thought he had seen it before, it looked like...

"I can't believe you were fooled so easily." said the man venomously. "Do you have any idea of the damage she could have caused?"

"It seems to me," said Pallin patiently. "That Walker helped us neutralize a killer _\- Commander Shepard's killer -_ at the risk of her own life. Some fake she turned out to be... Am I to understand that justice wasn't what the AIA wanted?"

"Of course that's what we wanted!"

"Then I fail to see the problem."

"You let an agent of the Shadow Broker infiltrate your organization! There's your problem!"

Jensen quirked his eyebrow..._Walker wasn't with the Alliance? The Shadow Broker? What in the-_

"No, YOU let a Shadow Broker agent infiltrate yours, and she used the papers YOUR agency provided. As far as I'm concerned, she's your screw-up, not ours."

The agent ignored him. "You should have every C-Sec agent she came in contact with arrested! Or does C-Sec condone their Detectives to consort with criminals and terrorists? They are a security risk!"

"If you believe that, then by all means, one of said Detectives is right behind you. You're free to try and apprehend him."

The agent turned around to face Jensen. He was a young man in his late twenties to early thirties, dressed in a G-man suit with a subtle floral pattern embroidered in the suit's fabric. His face's contour was chiseled, but its slender frame, combined with his piercing gray eyes and slightly small mouth conspired to make him look boyishly handsome. He held out a hand covered in black leather and introduced himself as if he hadn't just called for Jensen's arrest.

"Bryce Lawson. Alliance Intelligence." he said, neutrally.

"Fuck off." responded Jensen as he crossed his arms and glared at Lawson behind his dark gold mirrored shades. "You requested my presence, Executor?" he said aloud to Pallin, his gaze fixed on Lawson. To the man's credit, the man simply stared right back.

"_I_ requested your pres-"

"He was talking to _me,_" reminded Pallin. "Jensen, as you just heard, it turns out 'Walker' wasn't quite a hundred percent honest with us."

_Surprise, surprise,_ Jensen thought sarcastically. "So, do you want me to go and arrest her? She should still be in the hospital."

"That's the thing, she isn't there anymore. She didn't even check out, she simply vanished."

"Another point for C-Sec's vigilance, I'm sure." commented Lawson.

Pallin ignored him. "Both the AIA and the Spectres would like a word Walker, and the Spectres have put an APB out on her. While everyone will be on the lookout for her, I want YOU to track her down, Jensen."

"Alright, can either of you tell me who she really is and what she and the Shadow Broker really want?"

"Her favorite alias," said Lawson. "is Aya Brea. She's been a thorn in the side of every major Terran organization for the past decade, stealing state secrets and, true to her employer, sold them to the highest bidder. I'm sure you've noticed her...expensive tastes."

Jensen's mind drifted back to Hwang's restaurant and Walker slowly savoring her sushi. _Focus, goddamn you._

"Also, she's not entirely human, as I'm sure you've noticed."

"...I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come now, mister Jensen...Her blood is all over the floor and your clothes and yet she hasn't so much as a scratch on her? Please. Her nature should be very apparent."

"So she's a bio-aug. Not our concern: she hasn't got any extra limbs and she can't spit acid."

"She's not an aug, Jensen..." said Pallin.

"What is she then?" asked Jensen.

"Well, she's a Bioroid." answered Lawson. The implications of what he just said shocked Adam.

...

_"Jensen...don't let them take me away..."_

_"They'll take care of you."_

_"No...they can't..._

...

"...the doctors, they said-"

"-She's not like the one you just retired, Mister Jensen. That was a combat model. Brea was designed to be the perfect infiltrator, constructed to be _completely_ indistinguishable from the real deal and still retain some of the advantages of being a synthetic organism: faster reflexes, enhanced intelligence, superior strength and so on. The only way to tell her apart from a normal human being is by putting her cells' abnormal Mitochondria through a high-resolution medical scanner, which, fortunately, her doctors did not do. That's one mess we won't have to sanitize."

Jensen did not like the way Lawson said 'sanitize'. At all.

"If you don't believe me, believe this, she used a similar kill-and-replace tactic in approaching you." Lawson withdrew a datapad from his pocket and handed it to Jensen. "The REAL Sarah Walker never made it to her flight from Bekenstein...We haven't found the body, but we're not exactly hopeful of ever finding it. Bioroids are...thorough, when they dispose of a corpse."

Jensen examined the heavily redacted file on the real Sarah Walker. Her photo did not look like Brea at all. The real Walker was a round faced and raven haired European, and while not unattractive she kinda reminded Jensen of a green ogre he saw in a movie when he was a kid.

"Well, she got the hair wrong, apparently." quipped Jensen as he handed the Datapad back. He wasn't entirely convinced Lawson was on the up and up about this. Then again, CASIE didn't tell him anything about the man besides that he was 'Arrogant and Contemptuous'. Maybe he was telling the truth, or maybe he was a consummate liar.

"Jensen," said Pallin, "it is EXTREMELY important that this Brea is brought in for examination. If she really IS a Bioroid AND working for the Shadow Broker, then the Council won't be able to ignore the threat that she and rest of her kind represents."

Jensen did not like the way Pallin said 'examination'. At all.

Lawson smiled his boyish smile. "And once the council is done with her the AIA will take her into custody...is that, empathy I see on your face, Mister Jensen? Has she managed to wrap you around her finger? Don't feel too bad about her: empathy is the one thing she isn't capable of. Believe me..._I know_." Jensen caught the briefest of a flicker of emotion come across Lawson's face. Hatred. Pure, venomous hatred. Apparently he and Brea had a history. "Under the treaty of Aken-"

"The treaty of Aken doesn't apply to cases taken over by Spectres. I'm pretty sure Brea falls under their jurisdiction, now. Go and wave your piece of paper at their faces and see where that gets you. I'm going to look for her alone." And without asking his leave, Jensen simply left.

"Well, there you have it." said Pallin, leaning back into his chair. "Perhaps you shouldn't have called for Jensen's arrest before requesting his help? Anything else i can do for you, Mister Lawson? I'm a busy man."

"...I can't believe you trapped me like that. And why didn't you order him to follow my commands?"

Pallin's expression became menacing. "I don't have to do SHIT for you, Lawson. With the Treaty of Aken overridden by the Spectres, you and the AIA are about as welcome here as a venereal disease." He jabbed a talon at the door. "_Get out._"

**~[h+]~**

In one of the embassy's public washrooms, Lawson waited for the other occupant to leave. He mentally reviewed his objectives and their status.

Luring Jensen into a trap was out, sadly, but there would be other opportunities. But that was secondary. The primary objective was well underway: Lawson had put the seed of suspicion in Pallin's head: That the Shadow Broker was behind the Bioroids. And once the Blacklight squad (or alternatively, C-Sec) captured Brea, Lawson would hand her over to the Spectres, and the Spectres would report to the Councilors. The blame would be shifted onto the Shadow Broker and away from Saren.

Saren had a part to play, although exactly what...that was only for Lawson's masters to know. And that meant the Broker had to be put on the defensive.

The only other occupant in the washroom left, and Lawson picked the cleanest urinal he could find, unzipped, and relieved himself. Lawson didn't like exposing himself like this: the size of his penis, while impressive, was actually a source of embarrassment to him. Sure, it made him a tempting honey pot sometimes, but it also lead to uncomfortable conversation in the washroom.

He felt a shiver across his body, and while most men would have dismissed that one as a piss shiver, Lawson knew better.

"The thing about the Glass Shield," he said aloud to no one in particular. "Is that its electromagnetic field can interact with element zero nodes. Using it around me causes my nodes to tingle all over." he tucked his member in, zipped up, and turned around with his hands up. Jensen decloaked in front of him, with a revolver pointed at his head.

**~[h+]~**

"Hi." said Jensen, his gun perfectly steady and unwavering.

"Why hello to you too, Mister Jensen." said Lawson as he glanced at the door. It was locked.

"You know..." he said, putting on his boyish smile. "...if you wanted a quick tryst you could have just asked. We could have gone someplace a little less...filthy. Although I have to admit...this does look suspiciously like one of my fantasies. Is this the part where you tell me I have the right to remain..._aroused?_"

"Enough. I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going to answer me."

"And what question would that be?"

"Why did the Alliance kill Shepard?"

Lawson simply laughed at that. "I'm sorry? Am I really supposed to dignify that with a serious response? Do you have anything to even remotely back up that claim?"

"Torfan."

"Never touch the stuff."

"Shepard's biotic unit was ordered to make the final push into a meat grinder, but She and Alenko disobeyed, and she went so far as to take down her superior officer to keep those men out. And yet, she wasn't punished for it. Why? For all intents and purposes, falling back meant an Alliance loss."

"Interesting...How do you know what happened at Torfan?"

...

_"Laputan Machine, repeat, Laputan Machine!"_

...

"I...I have my sources..."

"Huh-huh..."

"You didn't punish her because you already had. You did something to her: something that caused her Eezo nodes to flare uncontrollably...you tainted her neuropozyne."

_..._

_"Torfan," said Anderson simply. _

_Jensen turned the page. A neurological diagnostics report on Shepard's brain. Someone wrote HOW DID THIS HAPPEN next to it in red ink._

_"This is from the first time Shepard started suffering from her neuropozyne symptoms, isn't it?" asked Jensen, already knowing the answer._

_..._

_"A bit soon for an injection, isn't it?" asked Shepard. The med tech didn't answer as she buried the hypospray into her skin._

_..._

Jensen continued. "But she survived it, someone gave her an acetylcholine inhibitor just in time, and she started to forget things...It was a golden opportunity to remold her mind, wasn't it? One trip to that secret psycho-conditioning facility, and she would have gone back to being a good little soldier, but then something else happened. She got more help."

...

_Jensen turned the page. Schematics for some kind of wetware._

_"This...this is a blueprint for a Soulcatcher." said Walker in awe._

_..._

"Someone provided her with an advanced graybox. She was fine, she was stable, and you didn't get a chance to try and poison her again, because she got all her nu-poz treatments on the move in a cruiser. Because it had to look like an accident, didn't it? She was too popular, too important to simply murder. People would sniff around, investigate. But then she got assigned to the Normandy, a frigate with a tiny, tiny, sickbay.

...

_A whole week of dementia. That was why she didn't let Chakwas do the treatment: the Normandy's sickbay was small and had little in the way of privacy. She didn't want the crew to see her like this. She didn't want them to hear her shout obscenities at shadows. _

_..._

"So she booked a room at an Alliance run hospital, you knew you wouldn't get a better chance than that, you had to move fast, you didn't have a whole lot of assets available on the Citadel, and so you gave the job to the only one that could pull off a convenient accident: Diana Nielsen. Her private little museum in her walk-in closet: those accidents she framed and signed, many of their victims were involved with Terran affairs in one way or another. A fine career of assassination that lasted four years...and herein lies your worst fuckup - Nielsen became unstable, became obsessed, saw her work as art and herself as an artist, and she was fed up with no one knowing what she had done.

...

**"yOu...wILL...nEveR...fo-fo-forGEt...meeeee** _eeeee._ **..." ** _said the disembodied head with a grin as the red light in its eyes faded into pools of dead black._

...

"That's why she used the knife instead of sabotaging Shepard's meds..."

...

_"Either way," said Adam, :this was definitely personal. A good hitman knows how to make a kill look like an accident. Pretty good opportunity for that here: Victim's got a severe medical condition. Just stop the IV from giving her the enzyme and wait as her Eezo nodes do the rest of the work. We dismiss it as an accident. Case Closed. But then our killer ignores that and goes for a knife kill?" Adam pointed at the blade stuck in Shepard's chest. "And then leaves the weapon IN the body?"_

...

"...And that's why she left the flowers behind. But she wasn't content with just outing herself, Oh no. She wanted us to know who she was working for, that's why she used **Alliance gear!**"

...

_"It's a Type 98 Alliance Navy utility knife." said said Euridycia. "Standard issue for any Marine. No fingerprints."_

...

Lawson put his hands down and clapped, slowly. "You, are a just an imaginative little bugger, aren't you? But you forget, what possible motive could the Alliance have of killing humanity's finest champion?

"If there's anything I've learned about men and women of authority? They're **obsessed** with control. Shepard was the most powerful human biotic ever, a hero, and the most likely candidate to become the first, maybe even the ONLY human Spectre...and you just couldn't keep her under control, could you?!"

The Alliance Agent fixed him with a glare. "Hmph...more assumptions. You have no real proof: If you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation! You would have taken this straight to the Executor."

A pregnant, tense beat followed... Then, Jensen simply smiled. "You're right, I don't. But you know what's funny about pointing a gun at someone's head? Training or no, their eyes dart around and linger on the one thing they want to keep safe. Could be a loved one, could be a piece of jewelery...in your case? You've been trying real hard NOT to look at your Omni-Tool...I'm guessing there's SOMETHING in there you don't want me to see...So, Agent Lawson...Am I right, or am _I right?"_

Lawson's face turned vicious, his body instantly flared blue, and he telekinetically slapped Jensen's gun away. He biotically propped him up, then slammed him against the wall mirror, between two thick glass sinks. He was out cold, and Lawson prepared a Warp bolt to finish him off.

"You should have stayed in that freezer, you outdated old piece of-"

Lawson was interrupted by a sink slamming into his chest. His reflexes allowed him to bring up a Barrier just in time, but some of the kinetic energy got past it, and he was slammed against the wall with the urinals. He was stunned for a moment, and when he recovered his wits Jensen was already charging at him, a roar held back behind his teeth. The unstoppable Cyborg Cop tackled the not so immovable Biotic Bastion, and both men slammed through the concrete wall and landed into the floor of the adjoining women's bathroom in a shower of water. A human woman and an Asari, who had been gossiping about the torrid affair between two ambassadors, screamed at the sight of the two men viciously trying to punch each other with fists packed with superhuman power and fled the scene.

_The fight was on._

**~[h+]~**

* * *

CODEX ENTRY: RELIGION: EARTH: PARAMILITARY ORGANIZATIONS: THE TEMPLARS

_A controversial group that came into being shortly after the tumultuous times of the Collapse, the Templars, led by Grand Master Saman the 3rd, are the military arm of the Terran Order Church. Initially founded in Trier as a security force to guard the Order's vast Platinum reserve, the Templars greatly expanded during the century spent rebuilding civilization, and their ground military might rivals that of the UNAS. True to their namesake, the Templars also manage the vast finances of the Order Church, and this has led to many conspiracy theories as to who truly controls both organizations. In fact, the Templars are even more vocal in their criticism of modern human biotechnology than the Order Church itself, and many suspect a schism has begun to form between the Grand Master and Her Holiness._

_The Templar infantry doctrine involves outfitting a small number of elite units with highly advanced weapons and armour that include the Knight hardsuit, the V86A Crusader Power Armor and the Seraph flying Power Armor. While the typical Templar soldier is always armed with an assault rifle, they also always carry some kind of incendiary device, such as flamers, Wildfire grenades, and White Phosphorus portable mortar guns._

**~[h+]~**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Humans are assholes! Miranda is a DUDE! Who knew?
> 
> Oh man, I admit, I thought i was going to screw up this big revelation. Initially, I had Kai Leng in mind as Shepard's killer, then I had changed my mind to an Agent 47 clone, and the evidence was thrown around kinda willy-nilly, But every thing came together (almost) perfectly. Whew! The Alliance would, of course, always have been behind it all from the beginning. This is why you should plan ahead, folks. Don't be like me and write this by the seat of your pants.
> 
> Some more fantasy voice casting:
> 
> Alliance Intel Agent: Matt Bomer (voice AND appearance)  
Richard Grey: Alec Baldwin  
Aki Ross: Ming-Na Wen  
Neil Flemming: Steve Buscemi  
Ryan Whitaker: Terry Crews  
Aya Brea: Yvonne Strahovski  
Fahl: Jennifer Hale  
Aleph: Richard Madden


	19. Deal with the Devil

CODEX ENTRY: HISTORY: COUNCIL SPACE: WAR: THE RETAKING OF SHANXI

Shortly after General Williams surrendered Shanxi to the Turians after days of orbital bombardments, the Turian occupying force suddenly found its supply lines (along with its patrols) constantly attacked by what appeared to be an invisible pirate force, and several of their frigates had disappeared without a trace. A month later, the Turians over and above Shanxi were facing the prospect of starving to death. When several of their supply freighters returned under mysterious circumstances, the desperate, starving crews immediately distributed the food, which turned out to have been laced with a nearly undetectable time-delayed poison that killed hundreds of Turian soldiers. Having become suspicious of their food, many more began to suffer from malnutrition, and some even died of starvation. When a small fleet of reinforcements came in from Palaven along with even more supplies, it found itself under attack by captured turian frigates on suicide runs and was nearly destroyed. Many an officer wondered who was responsible for this catastrophe.

The answer: Admiral Yan Lo of the Coalition Star Force. While the Alliance parliament was busy convincing the governments of Earth to marshal a response to the Turian policing action of Relay 314, Yan Lo, eager to prove his theories on space warfare using Snowblind particles, gathered a fleet of forty frigates and one command cruiser, and immediately set out to begin a campaign of intelligence gathering and asymmetrical warfare that threw the Shanxi occupation fleet into complete disarray. Among his most controversial acts was the cultivation and modification of a potent and extremely contagious disease within prisoners, and then allowing them to 'escape', causing them to spread the disease. Reinforcements from Palaven only seemed to add to the chaos, providing Lo with more officers to torture and more targets to steal or destroy.

When the combined fleets of Earth's supranational unions finally arrived on Shanxi, they were outnumbered 3 to 1 by a fleet of 750 ships with crewed by Hierarchy sailors barely holding on to their sanity. When Yan Lo struck with the Snowblind bombs, all hell broke loose, and the turians found themselves surrounded on all sides and unable to provide fire support to their ground forces, who were being annihilated by an onslaught of Wanzers, powered armors, and unmanned drones. The Turian defeat was complete, calls for surrender were ignored, and the few prisoners that were taken had been interrogated, tortured, and lynched to death. Such was the fate of the famed General Desolas Arterius, whose dropship was shot down by Wanzer pilot Major Edgar Hein as it attempted to evacuate some wounded soldiers.

Shortly after the battle, Yan Lo would activate Relay 314, and exploration vessels from every union on earth followed him into the then unknown Sirius clusters. In the months that the Council brokered a peace between the nations of Earth and the Turian Hierarchy, humanity had laid claim to hundreds of new worlds and discovered at least five new sentient races, including the Fiera, natives of Xytegenia.

**~[h+]~**

* * *

** Lawson deflected Jensen's left-right punch combination and burst at him, landing a punch on both Jensen's sternum and abdomen, pushing the cyborg away into the mirrored wall. He immediately followed up with a biotic punch straight to the face. Jensen ducked and slipped under it and let Lawson's fist destroy the mirror and crack the wall behind it. As he slipped, Jensen countered with a knee strike to Lawson's kidney. The hit landed, but the Alliance Intel agent's Barrier soaked ninety percent of the blow's energy. Considering Jensen was powerful enough to punch out a brick wall, the knee strike still managed to make Lawson wince and grunt a little. He had increased his mass considerably to avoid being thrown around by Jensen's strength, so he only stumbled a very short distance in the direction of the toilet stalls. **

_Four minutes_, Jensen thought, _I have four minutes to subdue the bastard before the Patrolmen arrive on the scene. _Jensen knew that almost all of the patrolmen on the Presidium were rookies, and they typically called for backup straight from the vets at the academy before going into a situation. Taking the long elevator rides into account, that left Jensen with a little time to finish this fight. _Barrier can block physical attacks, so arm blades won't work. Need to go with blunt force trauma to overcome it._

Jensen followed up the knee strike by raining down flurry of blows - combinations of jabs, hooks, knee strikes - upon Lawson, who deflected or blocked every single one with a perfect, biotically enhanced Krav Maga defense. Each blow did almost nothing to drain Lawson of his stamina or concentration, and his Barrier held fast.

"Is that all you've got, Jensen?" taunted Lawson, smiling that arrogant boyish smile of his.

Jensen shifted tactics, and attempted a powerful heel kick to Lawson's diaphragm. Lawson caught it with both hands, and before he could attempt to twist it, Jensen followed up immediately with a flash kick with his other foot that landed on Lawson's chin. The hit dazed him, causing him to release his grip on Jensen's foot and making him fly in an arch in the air and into the steel door of a bathroom, which bent inwardly under Lawson's weight. Jensen landed on both feet and approached his opponent's slumped form, ready to make sure he wouldn't wake up anytime soon, but then he felt an invisible battering ram slam into his stomach. The Biotic Throw pushed him all the way to the much, much sturdier washroom door, and Jensen's back slammed into it. He fell on his posterior, and slumped against the door.

Lawson rose- no, floated back up- by lightening his mass signature and striking the floor with both hands at once. His body crackled with biotic energy as he landed on his feet. Jensen got up, but he quickly locked the door to give himself a few more seconds of non-interference and to make sure neither two fighters would leave this place until the other was well and truly down. At this, Lawson simply tilted his head left, then right, his neck stretching and popping each time.

"_My turn._" Lawson said menacingly as his body's glow intensified. Sensing a projectile duel and lacking a gun, Jensen dashed for the glass sinks and ripped the closest one from it's moorings, causing the pipes to rip out. Water sprinkled all over him as Lawson began his own one-two biotic combination: a Stasis attack followed by a Warp bolt to detonate the field. The Stasis bolt surged out of Lawson's hands, and as the energy bolt left Lawson's open palm Jensen threw the glass sink at the Stasis attack. The sink found its mark, and it stopped in mid hair, suspended in time. Lawson loosed the Warp bolt anyways, intent on detonating the glass sink.

It exploded in a flare of blue light, and Jensen was showered in glass shards. His shields stopped all of the ones that struck him, but his shield-belt beeped, signaling that its capacitors were completely drained. Unwilling to risk getting hit by another 'glass bomb' Jensen took advantage of the flare's bright flash to cloak and rushed Lawson. Unfortunately for Jensen, the water that had been spilling into the floor splashed with his every stride, signaling his presence. Lawson biotically ripped one of the stall's doors from its hinges and telekinetically swung it at Jensen in a wide arc like a huge fly swatter.

"Nice try, Jensen!" shouted Lawson.

The swing only succeeded in giving the invisible cyborg a weapon: Jensen decloaked and swung the door back at the agent, who ducked and weaved under it. He threw a biotic punch at the improvised weapon when Jensen swung again, causing it to crumple like wet cardboard. Jensen discarded the useless piece of metal and attempted to side-kick Lawson's left foot away. Lawson simply raised his foot and let Jensen's kick fly under it, but the cyborg used his side kick's momentum to do a full spin and land the very same kick on the side of Lawson's head just as he set his left foot down. Lawson's barrier soaked the hit again, but he found himself slammed against the wall, and his Barrier-covered head broke several ceramic tiles. Barely fazed, he immediately started another onslaught, a flurry of punches alternating between wide swings and quick jabs. Jensen, likewise an expert in the 360 degrees defense, deflected every single one, and occasionally threw counter jabs at Lawson's head. They were barely strong enough to phase him.

Lawson attempted to daze Jensen by striking both of his eardrums at once with open palms, but Jensen blocked the attack with both arms. Before Adam could seize Lawson's wrists, the agent grabbed Jensen's head and pulled him down for a biotically accelerated knee strike to his abdomen, then another, and then another. Jensen grunted under every strike as they knocked some wind out of him. Unable to resist, Jensen's head was pulled in and slammed three times against the wall.

Deciding that enough was enough and sensing an opportunity to finish this, Lawson pulled Jensen into an over-the-shoulder throw. He then straddled him to pin him down with his increased mass signature, grabbed him by the throat and activated his incendiary Omni-Blade. Jensen recovered his sense quickly enough to grab Lawson's left wrist and catch his right fist, keeping the left hand away from his throat and the right one with the blade away from his head. Lawson, eager at the imminent kill, increased the mass signature of his right fist to match a full ton...and slowly increased it to two. Jensen could feel the heat coming from the small tongue of flame being projected from between two flash forged superheated blades getting closer and closer to his face. He grunted desperately as he exerted all his willpower into his arm to delay the inevitable.

Lawson leaned in, his face full of vicious eagerness.

"Shhhh...Give it up! It'll be quicker that way..."

The white hot blade was getting closer...

"Aw, look at you! What's the matter Jensen? Afraid of a little _fire?"_

_Afraid_? Yes, Jensen had become afraid of fire, and he also _hated_it. There had been fire on the day his body was mangled and ruined, when he thought he had lost Megan forever. There had been fire in Neo Kobe, when he had heard the screams of a thousand machines built to understand pain, and there had been fire the day he had lost Fahl and Sunny.

And with those last few words, Lawson had made a terrible mistake. The way he emphasized the last word...he knew! and he had reminded Jensen of that horrible day on Elysium.

He had made Adam _mad._

Jensen bared his teeth, and Lawson's expression went from eagerness to disbelief as his two-ton fist was pushed back, then pain as Jensen twisted his hand. Losing his concentration, Lawson's mass went briefly back to normal and Jensen took the opportunity to wrestle him away and throw him into the handicap toilet stall. Both men wrestled on the ground until Jensen got the upper hand and forced Lawson's glowing right wrist into the toilet, breaking the ceramic bowl in a dozen pieces and bathing Lawson's arm in water. The incredible heat coming from Lawson's Omni-Blade flash-boiled the water, and he felt the terrible agony of his hand's skin being peeled away by the heat.

"AAAAAARGH!"

"What's the matter, Lawson?!" shouted Jensen as he raised his other fist. "Can't take the heat?!"

Lawson, in intense pain and desperation, pushed his opponent away from him with a biotic blast and pulled his hand out of the water. He got back on his feet and stared at his enemy, clenching his fists hard. Bryce dismissed the blade and channeled the pain in his hand and fed it into his will, making his fists glow in distorted blue flames. Jensen dismissed his shades as he raised his guard, staring into Lawson's eyes, silently goading him to come closer and finish this fight.

Lawson happily obliged and dashed forward, throwing jabs and crosses at Jensen's head, eager to pulp his skull. Jensen deflected and slipped past the first few strikes, until he blocked a left straight, twisted it, and locked Lawson's left arm under his armpit. With Lawson trapped and unable to evade, Jensen wailed on him with three overhand strikes to the skull. The shock to Lawson's brain caused his Barrier to start flickering, and he attempted to counter Jensen's onslaught with a right swing. Jensen deflected it, and locked Lawson's right arm under his armpit. Lawson countered with a knee strike to the stomach. Jensen replied with a headbutt. They went back and forth like this, inflicting incredible pain on each other, but neither men were willing to back down.

Lawson lightened Jensen's mass signature, lifted him up, roared, and tried to toss him like a rag doll, slamming him left against the thin metal wall of the stall (causing it be knocked off its moorings), and then to the right, against the ceramic tiled solid concrete wall. Not once letting go, Jensen kneed Lawson the the face, again and again. Lawson's concentration faltered, and Jensen's mass signature returned to normal, and Jensen took advantage of this to land another headbutt on Lawson's forehead with the added kinetic force of gravity. As the agent desperately tried to pull away, Jensen released the locked arms and Lawson stumbled backwards, discombobulated, but still not ready to yield.

Jensen took a deep breath, buried his anger deep inside his mind where it could fuel his focus. He triggered his Quicksilver, and the world slowed down.

_Time to finish this._

_Target will attempt a Biotic attack with good hand and resume ranged biotic attacks. Kick hand away, follow up with a side kick to the ribs at long range. Target will catch the foot, attempt to twist it. Must use the twist's momentum and counter with a jumping kick to the side of the head to ruin concentration further. Barrier output will be reduced. Land and crush foot, crack ribs. Target will lean forward in pain, will most likely attempt a clinch then a point blank Nova - Disable Biotic Amp. Barrier disabled - Dislocate Jaw. Back away. Strike genitals, then solar plexus._

"This is your last chance." said Jensen, his voice cold. "Surrender."

Lawson's answer came with the flare of his Biotics: "Fuck you."

Lawson attempted to fire off a Throw, and Jensen executed the attack perfectly. Lawson screamed in pain during the whole eight seconds Jensen spent to kick him in the head, stomp on his foot as he landed, unleash a flurry of punches at his ribs, and rabbit punch him in the back of the neck (and the amp) just as Lawson was about to clinch. The agent's screaming turned to a lame groaning as Jensen followed up with an uppercut into his jaw, took a step back, kicked him in the groin, then executed a flying knee into his solar plexus. In intense pain, Lawson was slammed against the wall, his back cracking the tiles. Some of them fell on him as he slumped down, physically crushed and spiritually defeated.

Jensen had won.

"You're under arrest." said Jensen flatly as he knelt down by Lawson and took his Omni-Tool. Lawson, incredibly, was still conscious, and snapped his jaw back into place with his masseter muscles alone. He grunted and winced, exposing his bloodied teeth, then spoke:

"For what?"

"Assaulting a police officer with intent to kill."

"Hah!" Lawson coughed out some blood. "You had a gun trained on me...it was _self-defense! _Once the cops get here, I'll make sure I'll have your badge for this! And then, you're going to spend the rest of your life in a tiny room blind and limbless!"

When he was done flash cuffing Lawson, Jensen pulled Sasha - the real one - out from his shoulder holster. "Did you mean this gun?"

"Wh-?!...what?! I knocked that gun away from your hands!"

"Yeah, you knocked away a toy." replied Jensen as he holstered his weapon. "Didn't you think it was a little weird that I let go of it so easily? It's amazing what you can make with Omni-Gel, these days. And before you even think about lying..." Jensen pointed at his artificial eyes. "I recorded myself making the replica just before I entered the washroom, and I've been recording this whole exchange too. You're going to look very stupid at your hearing when you tell them you couldn't tell the difference between a toy and the real deal... And you're going to have hard time selling self defense when you tried to stab me in the brain when you had me at your mercy."

Lawson fell silent and humiliated as the implications of what Jensen said sank in. If Jensen had wanted to, Lawson would have found himself with a big hole in his skull, and then he had been fooled into incriminating himself on the Citadel. His superiors would be _furious._ Jensen let him stew in his humiliation as he scanned the agent's Omni-Tool with his Smart-Vision to see if it had been damaged in the fight. The tool was a modified Nexus X, and the modifications weren't meant to enhance performance. Four small incendiary charges wired to the outer casing to prevent tampering with the device did not boost CPU speed, after all. Jensen was switched it on, and was faced with a login prompt. With no clue as to what the password was, Jensen was tempted to jack into it, but...

"That thing is full of Black ICE, isn't it?" asked Jensen.

"Why don't you -ah!..." Lawson tried to smile, but winced as pain radiated from his broken ribs. "...jack in, and see for yourself?"

"...Thanks, but no thanks." Jensen noticed something with his smart vision, the jewel that hung from Lawson's neck.

It was a rosary.

Jensen ripped Lawson's shirt partway and grabbed the jewel, snapping its chain of engraved thin, narrow plates. It was a silver cross the size of a coin with a blue, tear shaped sapphire in the middle.

"You're a member of the Order." Jensen said, accusingly.

"...Is being a believer a crime?...Give it back..."

"...You're _lucky_ it's not black steel with a red lozenge, Lawson."

Jensen could spot tiny electronics inside of it: four holo-emitters mounted on each cardinal point of the cross. They were all linked to a switch under the sapphire. Jensen pressed it, and a holograph appeared. It was Lawson and the real Walker, happily smiling at the camera. Had they been lovers? Spouses? Siblings? Had this been the real thing or just another cover identity?

"...Give it...Back..." begged Lawson as he reached out for the rosary with his bound hands. "Please..."

Lawson looked so pitiable now, and Jensen considered giving the jewel back. After all it wasn't his. But then, Lawson's body flared with blue energy.

"...Give! It! BACK!"

Before Lawson could fire off another attack, Jensen casually punched him in the head, knocking him out cold, then put the rosary in Lawson left pocket. Behind he could hear the sound C-Sec patrolmen trying to open the door. Jensen got up and looked at the damage he and Lawson had done.

_Pallin is going to kill me_, he thought, and then the door opened. Guns were pointed, questions were asked, but in the end Lawson soon found himself in C-Sec Academy's secure infirmary, comatose.

**~[h+]~**

In the Executor's office at C-Sec academy, Pallin tried to stay calm by focusing on his view of the five Wards. But he failed miserably: He was the Executor. Only station chiefs had to deal with the crap Jensen put on his table. Pallin swiveled his chair around when he heard Adam enter his office. His calm had been ruined immediately.

"Jensen! By all the Spirits of Palaven what in the HELL were you thinking sending an AIA agent into a COMA?! I've got a repair bill with too many zeroes on it! I've got Udina sending me complaints of police brutality and calling for your suspension! I am THIS close to indulging him!"

"I can explain..."

"You damn well better explain, and you better make it good!"

Jensen shared with Pallin his theory of the true masterminds behind the death of Junko Shepard, how he had confronted Lawson about it, and how the agent had tried to kill him over an Omni-Tool. Jensen plugged in his Tool to his data jack, and shared with Pallin his audio-video recording of the conversation, and the fight that ensued. It was fairly obvious that Lawson had attacked Jensen while under threat of a _toy, _and went far, FAR above what was considered acceptable force when it comes to self-defense. Still, there was enough ambiguity here and there for lawyers to have a field day with this evidence. And Lawson had verbally admitted nothing.

Pallin was dead silent the whole time, processing every word and blow. When the video ended, he sighed, and massaged his eyelids.

"First the council blames Saren and the Geth for Shepard's murder, then the AIA comes in and subtly blames the Shadow Broker, and then YOU come along and blame AIA. Spirits, who's the enemy, here?"

"I think we can safely assume that the Shadow Broker having Shepard killed is complete bunk, considering the source. As for Saren...well, I'm not entirely convinced his hands are clean of this either. If anything, Saren was already on the run for Eden Prime, and making use of assassination synthetics that resemble sentients should have brought down the full might of the Spectres down on his head. Blaming the Shadow Broker shifts the heat OFF Saren. Why would the AIA do this unless..."

"...Unless Saren and the AIA are allies. Wait, that doesn't make any sense! Saren attacked an Alliance colony!"

"I've learned never to underestimate how many innocents the people in power are willing to sacrifice for their plots. Maybe Saren's just a pawn. Maybe the AIA is. Maybe they're both working for the same mastermind and neither of them knows it. Either way..." Jensen set Lawson's Omni-Tool down on Pallin's desk. "_This _may provide the lead I need to find out who in the alliance is pulling the strings."

Pallin looked at the metallic box and scratched his chin. An orange light on it declared it was in sleep mode. "If the AIA is anything like the STG, that thing's casing is booby-trapped, loaded with Intrusion Countermeasure Electronics, and its data is encrypted. Am I right?"

"It's got a few small incendiary charges. As for the ICE and encryption, I'm not sure, but it's very likely. Think anyone down in C-Sec labs can crack this?"

"If we're talking STG level security then...no. Any clues as to what the password is?"

"None. I'd ask Lawson, but..." Jensen shrugged. He had intended on bringing in him in alive and conscious, but that last punch has caused enough trauma to Lawson's brain to send him into a coma (Pallin was not exaggerating). Of course, it's not like Lawson would have been cooperative anyways.

"Then we have no choice but to give this to the Spectres. They might be able to crack it, and it's now their case, after all.

Jensen took the Omni-Tool before Pallin could. "Yeah...I don't think I want to share this - or my theory - with the Spectres."

Pallin glared at him. "Jensen, I wasn't asking."

"Let's suppose the Spectres find just enough evidence to implicate the Alliance. What then?"

Pallin leaned back into his chair and sighed. Spirits, did he ever hate talking about politics. "They'll report to the Council that humanity is experimenting with Artificial Intelligence to create infiltrators and assassins. The Council would cut off all diplomatic ties with Earth and its colonies and would impose severe economic sanctions. The Council doesn't screw around when it comes to AIs."

"And do you really think Earth is just going to sit back and take it? Let's be honest here: It's going to mean war."

"Humanity hasn't got the military power required to take down the entire Hierachy's Navy, Jensen...They wouldn't dare." As he uttered the words, Pallin knew he wasn't terribly convinced of their veracity.

"There are more ways to fight a war. How many Turians soldiers and sailors died at Shanxi, Pallin?

Pallin didn't answer.

"How many, Pallin?"

"Too many." he said as he covered his face with his hand. "Too many to starvation. Too many to poisoned food. Too many under the heels of walking tanks. Too many to the tricks of Yan Lo and his damned Shadow Fleet..." Pallin understood what Jensen was saying. Things would get bloody fast. The Humans could be just as unyielding as the Turians, as powerful as the Asari, or as insidious as the Salarians. It didn't matter who would win: the death toll would rival the Krogan Rebellions.

_They might even become desperate enough to make more soldiers like Jensen. _The thought being whispered in the back of Pallin's mind was horrifying.

"As you've said," continued Jensen. "The Council thinks in incomplete, racialist terms. They'll just punish all of humanity instead of punishing those responsible... Unless I bring them the full picture, there will be nothing but a bloodbath, and absolutely no justice. I have to investigate this myself, and neither the Council nor the Spectres can be made aware of it."

"You're asking me to lie to the Council, Jensen. I can't do that."

"You'll have to. It's either a lie and peace, or the truth and war."

Pallin sighed, and for a while minute, he said absolutely nothing. Then he typed on his laptop.

"You and Garrus have got 6 months of paid vacation time saved up. I suggest you _both_ take advantage of it -"

"Pallin!"

"- and whatever you two do during that time is... _absolutely none of my concern... _Do you understand?"

"Yeah...I understand."

"Excellent." Pallin swiveled his chair around, turning his back to Jensen, and got back to admiring the moving lights of the Wards. "You're dismissed, Sergeant."

As Jensen turned to leave, Pallin said one last thing. "Jensen...if the Spectres come for you and you don't -or can't -cooperate with them...I won't be able to help you. Keep that in mind."

"I know." said Jensen as he left the office.

When the door closed behind him, Pallin muttered: "Good luck."

**~[h+]~**

At his apartment, Jensen put his damp clothes in the washing machine save for his leather coat (it was waterproofed), and took a quick shower, just to get the faint scent of..._washroom_ off of him. He put on a similar outfit than the last (only with a black tie), ate a quick meal, and focused his attention on his _Onyx B4_ body armour laying on his work table. When he had saved Tali from the fall, Jensen's Icarus landing system had completely misaligned the element zero micro-cores and fried its projectile sensors. The boys at Maintenance had just finished repairing the damage and the hardened the suits electronic components again electromagnetic emissions. Jensen chided himself for not picking it up before confronting Lawson: The torso protector would have come in handy when the agent started kneeing him in the abdomen.

And then he chided himself for the confrontation itself. He could have simply followed Lawson and spied on him, eavesdrop on him as he communicated with his superiors... but he had gone in there practically hoping for a fight. Why? Jensen pondered on the answer for a bit, and realized that he wanted to beat Lawson into a coma because he hated what he represented.

Humanity.

Or at least, humanity as the rest of the galaxy saw it. Young and arrogant, demanding and insulting... Powerful and dangerous. Jensen had to deal with all kinds of human stupidity since he left Elysium, mostly from Udina, and Lawson expecting that Jensen would assist him after calling for his arrest was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Another thought popped into his head. Would he have beaten Lawson into unconsciousness if he had been a woman? Walker - No, _Brea_ \- was young, arrogant and hadn't exactly been diplomatic on their first meeting...Well, actually, she had tried, but Jensen has insulted her 'perfume' and got her to drop all pretense. After _that,_ she had made his opinions about him pretty clear.

...

_"Maybe I should have approached you that way." taunted Walker. "Knock at your apartment door drenched in rain water, my clothes torn, my body shivering, my eyes red and my lip quivering... I suspect you'd have caught the killer in minutes had I put on my battered housewife routine."_

...

Jensen wondered if Brea was right: that he was an outdated fossil not just in body but also in spirit. He wondered if he would have felt more at home in the Middle ages as a knight-errant, rescuing a damsel in distress from some dark armored fiend. They'd would have written songs about his deeds and sung them all over Europe back then... but then Jensen shook his head, reminding himself that he probably would have hated the Middle Ages. Knights went to war for some lord's dispute with another, the women never bathed, the medicine was barbaric, and everyone and everything was covered in _shit._

The phone rang. It was Garrus, calling from his hospital room.

"Jensen here," Adam answered. "Getting better?"

_"Oh yeah, the docs told me they got all the panacea cysts in my lungs and wanted to keep me in for observation, but then I get an email from Personnel saying that my application for paid vacation time went through."_

"But of course you never sent any application, right?"

_"Nope. I asked Pallin about it and he told me to talk to you. So what's going on?"_

"I don't think I should be talking about this over the phone."

_"Really? Well, okay then. Let's meet somewhere; staying in for observation is more a suggestion anyways...and I can't stand the hospital food."_

"I don't want to risk you getting sick...I should just drop in."

_"Bah, If I was in any real danger the docs would have told me so. Warsaw Diner in half an hour sound good?"_

"Yeah, s-" Jensen's door bell rang. "I gotta go, someone's at the door. Warsaw in half an hour, got it."

_"See ya then." _said Garrus, and the connection closed.

Jensen being Jensen, he always used his Smart-Vision before answering the door... It always paid to know if your visitor was armed, after all. The six foot tall woman standing behind the door was indeed armed, but...

"No, it can't be..." Jensen immediately opened the door, revealing Sarah Walker (aka Aya Brea), wet, shivering and barefoot, dressed in a hospital gown that smelled of disinfectant and a old, torn raincoat that stank of piss and booze. She looked like hell, and still came off as attractive...even as she almost fainted, stumbled and fell forward in Jensen's arms. She managed to groan out a warning:

"Blacklight...Twelve of them...They're coming!"

**~[h+]~**

This was the part that Sergeant Xander Cross loved the most: cornering his prey. His Blacklight squad was composed of twelve patriots (himself included) dedicated to eliminating the enemies of humanity lurking in the shadows, handpicked from the finest marines in the Alliance Navy. Their names were known only to themselves, their identities removed from all records. They wore dull, black and unmarked personally customized heavy armour to ensure their survival, and carried the finest weapons humanity had to offer. As a final proof of their devotion, they were fitted with a set acid injector implants, designed to completely destroy their bodies to ensure that their bodies would not be taken by the enemy. Even dead men could tell tales, these days...

Right now, they were busy securing the building and cutting off any escape route that this Brea could take. Why she came here of all places, Cross had no idea. The building obviously wasn't trapped, and the security was laughable, so a last stand was out of the question.

_Something's not quite right here_, Cross thought to himself as he put on the black bucket the eggheads liked to call the Command Helmet. Where it not for the sensors that dotted the featureless black ceramic, Cross wouldn't be able to see a goddamned thing. The augmented reality display reported the health and shield status of his eleven men. One hundred percent on all counts.

His team, Team 1, secured the main Lobby. Team 2 went up the elevator to the seventh floor, where the it had stopped last. Since no one but that Vat-grown monster went in the building, and no one came out, it was logical to assume that was where she was hiding out. The plan was to go through every apartment on the floor to find and capture her.

Team 3's job was to keep the fire escape secure. Once Team 2 captured Brea, or somehow the whole mission went FUBAR, their job would be to go up the stairs and set up a Flash-pack in the building's main ventilation system. Plasma fire would pour into every room, _sanitizing_ the place, ensuring no one knew Blacklight was here.

There would be no witnesses. They might even manage to put the blame on the Batarians... Everybody hated them, after all. Perfect scapegoats.

_"Team 3 reporting, some kid wanted to take out the garbage."_

"Did he see you?" asked Cross.

_"Well...Yeah."_

"Is he human?"

_"Nope. Kittybird."_

"You know what to do. No witnesses."

_"Roger that. Sorry kid. This just ain't your lucky day."_ A scream of protest, a silenced gun blast, and then nothing but the sound of the acid round's payload eating at flesh came through on the Command Helmet's internal speakers. "_Witness sanitized._" said Team 2's leader.

"Sir," said Cross' second in command, the gearhead of the group. He was typing at the receptionist's desktop computer (said receptionist, a Salarian, was lying in a puddle of smoking flesh). "I've disabled the cameras, the wireless and landline comms, and wiped the hard drives as you asked, but before I did pulled up a list of the people that live here...One of them is Adam Jensen."

"Ah...that makes sense." said Cross to himself. "Looks like she turned to her knight in shining armour for help. What apartment is he in?"

"Room 451, sir, fifth floor."

"Black Lead to Team 2, are you on the seventh floor?"

_"Team 2 Leader here, we just got here...goddamned Citadel elevators are so goddamned slow - They're on linear rails for fuck's sake!"_

"Quit your bitching... go back down to the fifth floor, the target is probably recruiting the aid of Adam Jensen. Be warned, Jensen is covered head to toe in CNT, can cloak at will, and can see you through walls and in the dark. He favors non-lethal tactics, but use caution anyways...your sanitizer implants won't care if you're dead or just napping."

_"Ugh... another long ride down. Roger that, Black Lead, moving down...Hey boss man! That Brea is one fine piece of ass, if her pictures are anything to go by... thing me and the men could, you know..."_

"...Pull a train on her?" Cross frowned. "You do realize we're in the middle of an op against a killer robot, right?"

_"Exactly! You can't rape a _ **machine** _, sir. Or whatever the fuck she is..."_

Cross was genuinely disgusted that Black 5 would actually consider putting his dick inside that thing. "Just focus on the mission, _idiot_."

_"I knew there was a reason I loved you, _**sir**_." _Team 2's leader said sarcastically, and Cross thought that boy was overdue for some flogging. "_Oh well! I still get to kill Adam motherfucking Jensen today! I'm gonna take one of his arms as a souvenir. What do you want as a souvenir, Nine? The eyes? The shades?"_

_Black nine, the third team's leader, ignored Black five."Team 3 lead here, sir... Didn't Jensen take down Lawson? The agent's a Biotic Bastion - practically invincible..."_

Team 2's leader laughed. _"HA! Lawson ain't us! We're Blacklight, not some magical pretty boy! This is going to be _**easy**_, man!"_

_"Yeah well...I'd feel better if we had an Exo-Suit on this op, now. Or a Wanzer."_

_"That shit won't fit in the stealth pod, you know that..." _All of a sudden, Five resumed his professional demeanor. "_Ah, we're on the fifth floor now, sir. Coming up on door 451...Black 6 and 7, stack up on that door. Permission to breach and clear, sir?"_

Cross didn't think breaching the door would be worth the attention. Screaming civies would alert someone. "Nah, hack the door, go in quiet."

_"Roger that, hacking door...Door's open, going in... switching to EM vision. There's Brea nice and asleep...but no sign of Jensen in the living room. Everyone clear the apartment."_

_"Bedroom's clear."_ said Six.

_"Bathroom's clear,"_ reported Seven.

_"Kitchen's-"_ A loud bang came through Eight's mic, then nothing at all. His status window went red - KIA.

_"FUCK! HE'S ON THE CEIL-"_ Bang. Team 2's leader flatlined.

_"I see him, I see him! die you augAAAARGH-"_ Black 6 flatlined.

_"Oh no oh no oh god oh god, please PLEASE NOOOO-"_ Cross heard a distinct slicing noise, and Black 7 flatlined.

Four of the finest men in the Alliance military, killed in six seconds... This mission had officially gone to hell. Cross said nothing for what felt like an eternity, and then: "Team 3," said Cross. "Flash pack the place. We're leaving."

"_Roger that, sir! Everyone, we're going up to sanitize the place, move it! move it!_"

_"Sir? There's an EM spike above us! It's Oh SHIT!"_

**~[h+]~**

As Jensen fell into the gap between the stairs with his head upside down, his nearly useless Icarus system blinding the men in black armour, he triggered his Quicksilver and fanned Sasha's hammer four times, hitting each soldier in the neck with one of Amnon's special explosive rounds, and their armoured buckets for heads popped off. He twisted and landed on his feet and free hand. Above him was the sound of Flesh being eaten by acid, but he wondered where the smell of it came from... He stood up...and saw the molten figure of a turian boy next to a garbage bag. He was almost unrecognizable, but it definitely was Atia's son, Mettius... He was looking forward to his fifteenth birthday, when he'd have to join the military. He often pestered Adam for war stories and about his mechanical hands, thinking he lost his real ones in a war. He wasn't entirely wrong.

Jensen silently loaded four more of Amnon's Specials into Sasha. There would be blood for this.

**~[h+]~**

In the lobby, Team 1 heard a door opening down the main hall. Before that, they had heard the report of chemical rounds, muffled by the thick concrete. Cross wondered why the residents weren't coming out of their apartments to check out the noise, and then remembered that Aliens probably never heard a chemical gun blast in their entire lives: just the whine and flash-hiss of mass accelerators.

"Sir, that came from the stairs." said Black Two.

"I know. Team 3 is gone." said Cross, flatly. "Three and Four, Stack up on that hallway. Two, you're with me. You're going to scan for him."

"...Sir, weren't we-"

"That's and order, soldier. Move out." There was no point in escaping now. Eight men dead and nothing to show for it? Their superiors would have their heads. Might as well try and bring them Jensen's...

Cross and Two slowly made their way to the staircase's door, with Two keeping an eye on his Omni-Tool, looking for anything out of the ordinary. They were half way there when Three and Four flatlined.

Black Two completely lost his shit. It wasn't supposed to be this way: "How did he get behind us?! Oh god...We're all gonna die here!"

Cross ignored him, keeping his gun pointed down the hall, towards the main lobby. "Keep an eye on your Omni-Tool, damn you!"

But Two wasn't keeping an eye on his Omni-Tool, and when Jensen dropped behind him from the air vent above, he barely felt the arm blade enter his heart. Two let out a death rattle, and Jensen kicked him in the back and right into Cross. Knowing that Two's acid charges would kick in, Cross pushed him off and brought his rifle to bear on Jensen, who was now standing above him. _How did he get to me so quickly?_ thought the Blacklight sergeant as Jensen kicked his weapon away. Crawled away and went for his pistol, and then Jensen kicked that one away too. All he had left were his LAMs, but before he count even THINK of going suicide bomber, Jensen grabbed him by the neck with one arm, removed all his explosives and tore off his helmet's faceplate with the other. Cross only had one thing left to do now. _He laughed_:

"Heheheh...my men, you didn't even try to take them alive! So much for you being a pacifist - urkh!" Cross gurgled as Jensen squeezed his neck a little harder.

"Do I _look_ like a man of _peace_ to you right now?" Jensen's voice was low and menacing. He spoke as he walked all the way to the lobby. "Your men had it coming. I know something about wetwork teams...and their ideas of 'collateral damage' and 'acceptable civilian losses'."

"We're patriots!" Cross spat. "We do what's necessary to keep humanity safe!"

"Yeah...That's what they all say."

"Can you say the same about Brea?! Do you know how many men and women and children SHE has killed, just to line her pockets? Nah, she just quivered her lips at you and that was enough to fill you with rage and start with the self-righteous killing! I killed for the sake of my nation! You just killed eleven men for the sake of PUSSY!"

"And I killed twelve men for the sake of Mettius."

"What? Wait, no! NoooOOO-"

Jensen threw Cross through the thick polarized glass of the inner door, and then Cross's back broke against the thicker glass of the outer door. The trauma triggered Cross's acid implants as he fell onto the outside walkway, and he melted before the eyes of passers-by, who screamed and panicked and immediately called for C-Sec.

There would be many witnesses.

**~[h+]~**

When he heard over the news that Jensen's apartment building had been attacked by twelve unidentified mercs, Garrus had bolted for the Warsaw Diner's door without ordering anything, but stopped once he got a call from Jensen himself, telling him to stay put and wait for him to pick him up.

That was why Garrus was waiting outside the diner in the fake rain (_damn those floating sprinkler cisterns_, thought Garrus) for his partner. After a few minutes of waiting, Jensen's Spinner landed nearby. The passenger's door opened, and inside Jensen beckoned his partner to get in. Garrus got inside the vintage car, happy to get away from the spray. Thank goodness his Agent mk I was waterproof.

He was just about to ask what the hell was going on when he saw Walker lying down on the backseat in a hospital gown and Jensen's favorite blue coat wrapped over her like a sheet. She was feverish and shivering, her brow covered in a cold sweat, and barely conscious.

"What in the... Is that Walker?" Garrus closed the passenger door. "What's wrong with her?"

"From she's been able to tell me," said Jensen as he drove around nowhere in particular, "and it's not a lot, the hospital gave her the wrong kind of blood plasma and it's making her sicker instead of better."

"Well then let's take her back! I'm sure they can fix the problem."

"It's not that simple...I don't think normal medicine will work on her: She's not really human."

Garrus took another look at her. "She looks plenty human to me..."

"Yeah, about that... let me bring you up to speed on current events..." After a few minutes to relay the events of the past day, Jensen finished with: "...And now here I am driving around randomly with a sick robot woman in the back of my car and a locked up AIA Omni-Tool burning a hole in my pocket and no idea what to do next."

Garrus threw his hands up in mock exasperation."Aw, damnit! I knew this paid vacation thing was too good to be true. Couldn't be just some good fortune, no, Pallin wants me to take down an Alliance conspiracy. _Fantastic!_"

"...You're free to bail out if you want."

"What? Hells no! I'm not letting you take on those murderers by yourself! I'm in."

"Thanks...I was kind of hoping you'd be able to give me some suggestions? I'm kind of at a loss as to what to do, now."

"Well, the way I see it, we need to get Wa- I mean, _Brea -_ some medical help, and then get this AIA tool cracked. The former I'm at a loss... as for the second, well... how about Tali'Zorah? If she can extract data from a Geth memory core then I'm sure she can manage to do the same to an Omni-Tool..."

"Problem: she works for Hein, now."

"Does she? Huh, must've missed that part when you snuck aboard his ship." _It must have been when I gave that Serpent a try,_ thought Garrus. _That was a fun gun to fire. Pretty accurate, too._ _Too bad the only ones that would get to use it were the boys and girls in Special Response. _Just then, something occurred to him. "You know, I don't think that's actually a problem: Hein's got this thing for weird science, right? Who better to fix a Bioroid than him?"

"No!..." protested Brea, weak and delirious. "He'll...he'll cut me apart. They always cut me apart...I'll be good...I promise...ah..."

"...Well, that settles that." said Jensen. "The Durendal's out of the question. We'll contact Zorah some other way."

Garrus shook his head. "Look, if we take Brea to the hospital, the docs screw up, and she dies. If they manage to save her. Those 'Blacklight' goons find her in her hospital bed, and she dies-

"-I killed them all."

"There could be _more_, and we can't endanger the public. You KNOW what happens when we get into a firefight. We do nothing, and she dies. The Durendal's our best hope right now."

"And he's supposed to do that for free?!" snapped Jensen. "We've got nothing he wants!"

"We'll work something out! It's worth a shot, damnit!"

Jensen looked at one of his hands, and clenched into a tight fist. Garrus would have given up a lot just to hear what Jensen was thinking at that very moment, but he could guess it was a painful memory. Finally, Jensen said, "I just...I just hate dealing with his _kind._" The bitterness in his voice was palpable.

Brea coughed up blood, and Jensen put his foot on the accelerator. The decision had already been made. "Goddammit..."

**~[h+]~**

In the cargo bay of the Durendal, Hein stood in the middle of the entry ramp, sucking in the artificial air. He honestly wished the floating cistern spraying water towards the wars would spray some rain his way, but Alas! the cisterns didn't pass over the docks that poked out of the Presidium Ring. Oh well.

Hein actually got a kick out of breathing the Citadel's air: after all, all it took was one catastrophic failure of the station's artificial gravity systems and the atmospheric bubble that wrapped the station would just pop, and everyone outside would be sucking vacuum in a matter of minutes. The idea made breathing _exciting_!

Neil Fleming, The Deep Eyes' designated marksman and their pilot (pressed in the role of the Durendal's helmsman) walked besides Hein and took a deep breath. "Ah, smell that fake, artificial air... Tali says that the drive core won't be giving us any problems and Ryan's got the supplies loaded up. We're ready to go to Caleston on your word, sir."

"Hm hm..." Hein barely paid any attention to what the pilot said.

"Are... are we waiting for something, sir?"

"Passengers."

"...We're taking passengers, now?" Neil scratched his head, confused. "Are they paying fare?

"Oh, they don't know they're passengers yet. But they'll be here in about...10, 9...

Hein counted down from ten to one, and then a Vintage aircar painted in blue approached the Durendal, bypassing the space port building completely.

"And, there they are. Get the other Deep Eyes, and make sure they come bearing Serpents," ordered Hein.

Neil acknowledged the order, ran in, whistled, and before long four heavily armed (if a mite unarmored) marines flanked Colonel Hein. The car flew under the nose of the Durendal, and parked itself not ten meters away from the cargo bay's entrance. Out of that car came the infamous Adam Jensen and his equally storied partner Garrus Vakarian. They pulled out of the rear seat a blonde woman clad only in a hospital gown and a dark blue leather coat. Jensen carried her bridal style while Vakarian took the lead. The trio approached the cargo ramp, and the turian flashed his badge.

"Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec. It's an emergency: We need to make use of your medical facilities."

Hein smiled and said simply: "Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm... No."

For a second there Vakarian was at a loss. "... Do I need to show the badge - I think I'll show you the badge again - You see this badge? That means that when an officer of the law asks for your assistance you..."

"I am well versed in the law, Mister Vakarian. I am also aware that unless you have a search warrant I have every right to deny you entry... Unless of course you're Spectres. _Are_ you Spectres, hm?"

Vakarian sighed. If it hadn't been for his father... "No, we're not Spectres."

"Hm-hm, And not only that I have _every_ reason to deny you entry, with no less than oh... two? three? Blacklight squads nipping at your friend's heels, and all that. I'd _prefer_ not give the AIA cause to give me trouble."

"And how did you know about that?" asked Jensen.

"A little bird told me." answered Hein with a shrug, "They also told me that SHE..." he pointed a finger at Brea. "...sent a cyborg to steal from me! You wouldn't know anything about THAT, now would you?" He lightly shoved Vakarian aside and strolled casually up to Jensen and Brea, and took a good look at the sick woman. "Ah, Mrs. McKay. Or was it Royce? Or Veronica? So many different names..."

"Brea," said Jensen, his voice neutral, betraying almost no anger. Brea was wheezing now, barely aware of her surroundings. She didn't have long...

"Ah yes, _that's_ her favorite. A rare animal, this one. Proud, and regal and strong and...brought low by disease, like the lions of pre-collapse earth. Did you know I am a good friend of her employer? She could have come to me for help any time she wished but she just. Wouldn't. Trust me. Isn't that right, Brea?"

Brea simply wheezed again in response. The sight of her greying, veined face made something inside Jensen crack...

"Oh, tsk tsk tsk... she doesn't have long, now, does she?" said Hein in fake empathy. He eyed Jensen meaningfully. "This soon-to be corpse... she makes you feel something, yes? I just to _have_ to know what you're feeling."

Jensen clenched his teeth. "How do you _think_ I feel, right now?"

"Oh ho-ho! So you DO feel something for this... soft machine, don't you? Does it break your heart to see... _it_, like this? Does your soul die with its every straining breath? Does your heart fill to bursting with righteous fury as I dangle the elixir that can save its life in front of your face like a cruel child? Because I CAN save her, you know. The evil wizard can make your princess all better... But guess what? There's a price for everything, Mister Jensen, and I do NOT come cheap."

"...Name your price."

"Jensen!" protested Vakarian. "You were right! To the hells with this asshole, we can-"

"My price, Mister Jensen, is _you_." answered Hein as he put his hands on the sides of Jensen's head. "And what's inside your _mind_. For you see you've taken something precious from me, but instead of driving you completely mad it has taken root, and that makes you a very, VERY valuable specimen." He let go of Jensen. "Decide quickly, Brea's life hangs in the balance!"

At that moment Jensen felt he had been manipulated into this very moment, this very situation. He felt trapped, as if all of his avenues of escape had been barred. He felt as if he had no choice.

_"There's always a choice, son. Always more than one option."_ Adam recalled his father telling him, a century and a half ago. _"Yes, or no. Either, Neither, or Both. The trick is, you have to make the _**right**_ one, the choice that helps everyone..."_

"...You have a deal."

Hein smiled as the devil did when he savored a fresh soul, "...Fantastic!" He motioned the Deep Eyes to stand down. "Officers, Walk with me, Would you kindly? Mister Fleming! Tell Ms. Zorah to warm up the fusion drive and get to the helm, we're leaving!" Hein activated his Wrist Halo and spoke into it. "Dr Ross? Prep the infirmary: we've got a Bioroid to fix!"

**~[h+]~**

In the captain's quarters aboard the Normandy, Anderson sat at his desk, staring at his desktop computer's camera. Before that he had stared into an empty page on a word processor, trying to come up with the words that would gently break the news to Alenko's family that he had died at the hands of... something. C-Sec had not been forthcoming in the details, citing restrictions due to the Citadel Official Secrets Act. Pallin had taken him aside and shared with him that the killer had been dealt with once and for all, but that was all that he could share with him, and that's was all Anderson would be able to share with Alenko's parents and his two sisters.

It wasn't enough, and he knew it.

Anderson had met Alenko's family last year, when Kaidan had invited both he and Shepard over for a Christmas eve dinner. His father was a big, happy boisterous bear of a man, who could not stop talking about how proud he was of his son and the fine warrior woman he had claimed for a bride. His kindly if fussy mother doted on everyone at the table, making sure that they had sampled at least one of every dish (and there were many). His two sisters were barely out of their teens, and Shepard had a grand time sharing embarrassing stories of Alenko's misadventures in the military with them.

Anderson pictured them all, weeping over a closed casket, and the thought broke his heart. He threw the computer against the wall in frustration, believing that no words he could type onto it or say into it would be enough for the Alenkos. They had a right to know why and how their son died, and the damned council had denied him the answers.

A chime, and Navigator Pressly's voice echoed in the darkened room. "Sir? There's some Salarian Spectre by the name of Jondum Bau here to speak with you. He's waiting for you in the conference room."

Anderson leaned back against his chair, sighing as he rubbed his eyelids. "Any idea what he wants?"

"I think he's... commandeering the ship, sir."

Anderson couldn't leave his quarters fast enough. What the hell was going on?

**~[h+]~**

Jensen waited patiently at Hein's desk, wondering exactly what he had gotten himself into and how he could get out of it. He considered punching out the whole crew, but he realized he didn't know how to fly a US navy cruiser, and the ship was now well on its way to the Relay.

The place had been cleaned up

He heard a thud behind him, and then the door opened. Jensen turned around and saw Hein, rubbing the pain from his nose as he walked up to his desk and sat down. "Ow," he said. "stupid door NEVER works right. Wait a minute, how'd YOU get in here?"

"You told me to wait in your office."

"I told you to wait AT my office not- oh never mind it's not important." Hein sniffled. "Dr Ross is monitoring Brea's status, but she expects she'll recover and regain consciousness in about three days." Hein leaned back against his cushy chair and rubbed his hands. "Now, as for the matter of my repayment..."

"Fine. Is it my turn to go on the operating table?"

"Oh? Whatever for?"

"So you can cut open my head and take out my wet drives?"

Hein looked at Jensen, dead serious for about two seconds before he started laughing.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahaha..." He wiped a tear off his eye. "Ooooh man. You're actually serious." He chuckled a bit, and then: "Please, mister Jensen, believe it or not we've made _some_ advances in cybernetics since 2028...All I want you to do, is that when it's your nappy time, you report to Dr Ross. She'll give you a special sedative that will guarantee you eight hours of REM sleep, and she'll set you up in a Dream Catcher that will stimulate your memories of when you plugged in to the Soulcatcher. Don't worry - She's an expert at using the machine. You won't feel a thing."

Eight hours of nightmares. Eight hours of some amoral Howard Hughes wannabe poking inside his unconscious thoughts. He almost preferred being cut open.

"So that's it? You did this whole Bond villain song and dance and put a woman's life in danger to get me to your infirmary and _sleep_?"

"Well, now that you put it that way that does sound a like too little a compensation for my services, doesn't it? What I'm also interested in is both your talents as an agent and your construction. I have some hardware I'd like to field test and you'll be the perfect-"

"-Guinea pig."

"Hm... More like crash test dummy. Tell me, how does a Shinkawa Model-108 sound to you?"

"...I have no idea what that is."

"Oh you'll love it! It's a powered hard-suit, lined with CNT muscle fibers and fitted with no less than 24 separate kinetic barrier projectors and an integrated Omni-gel fabricator system..." He winced. "Problem is the performance is too much to handle for a normal human being and anyone that tries wearing the thing inevitably gets mangled. Since your bones are made of a reinforced titanium alloy, I suspect you'll have a better chance of getting the VI to calibrate itself properly to human's movements... But of course, that's only a secondary goal."

"There's a primary goal? I'm confused, here."

"Ah! of course, silly me." Hein fished out a dossier. "Do you know where we're headed? Never mind, I'll just tell you: We are currently on course for the lovely backwater of Caleston to find and rescue..." He slid the dossier over to Jensen "... This lovely young Asari."

Jensen picked up the dossier, and foremost amongst sheets of digital paper were the side and front pictures of a pale-white Asari Maiden. Her alabaster skin was flushed with the reddish-purple color of Asari blood, and her eyes, surrounded by darkened irises and black eyelashes, were the color of raspberries, with a lighter shade of red for the irises. The tentacles on her crest were longer than usual, with the two closest to the temples curling around the ear-holes and tickled her jaw, while the rest covered her nape. The name printed on the digital paper read as such:

_Manah T'soni._

"Who is this?" asked Jensen, confused. She was strangely beautiful... but something just wasn't right about her.

**~[h+]~**

"Manah T'soni." said Jondum Bau again, answering Captain Anderson.

Anderson was still trying to process what he had just been told. Both Junko and Kaidan had been murdered by a machine imitation of a human being, and Jensen (bless the man's heart) had hunted down the machine and retired it a great risk to himself and his partner. The Council believed that 'Nielsen' was a fusion of Geth and Prothean technology, and they wanted to stop Saren from getting his hands on more Prothean relics, or at least making sure he couldn't figure out the ones he already had: the man was, apparently, an avid collector. When Anderson had been told the name of the expert he and Jondum Bau were to extract out of Caleston, the thoughts echoing in his had drowned out her name, and he had asked: "I'm sorry, who?"

"Daughter of Matriarch Benezia T'soni," continued Bau as he continued his holographic presentation, "the woman seen at Saren's side during his grand speech before the Eden's Prime attack. Doctor T'soni has made some very interesting observations on Prothean relics. Her expertise on Prothean art has allowed her to identify actual devices from what other archaeologists have dismissed as statues or artwork. Because of her relationship with her mother, we suspect Benezia will try and recruit her in Saren's organization. My mission - and by extension, yours - is to secure T'soni and deny him that potential asset."

"It's good to know the Council is doing _something._" said Anderson, bitterly. "So, it's a simple milk run close to the Terminus, I can see why you need the Normandy."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. You see..."

**~[h+]~**

"Caleston's main colony hub is run by the RedWater Mining Corporation," said Hein. "And if you read anything about them, you'd know that's it is run by a bunch of corrupt fuck-ups. And in _a lovely example of history repeating itself,_ the workers rebelled and now Caleston has no central government whatsoever. The leader behind the uprising died, and now the whole Hub is run by gangs. It's calm now, but the place is divided and it won't be long before hostilities flare up. Not a good place to be if you're a hundred and four years old Asari Maiden."

"Why are you so interested in her?"

"Did you ever wonder why all we can get out of the Prothean Beacons is just the most basic principles of Mass Effect fields? That's because it's the simplest thing a sentient mind can handle... and that alone tends to drive anyone that interfaces with a Beacon completely bonkers. The wealth of information that we've found in the Mars cache remains untapped because everything else on it is just too damned complex... or so current wisdom claims. T'soni may very well be able to provide me with the insight necessary to pull the TRUE secrets of the Protheans from the archives found on Mars."

"Alright, but that doesn't explain why you need me to help. You've got four soldiers."

Hein winced. "Eh, the Deep Eyes? Make no mistake - they're _excellent_ soldiers, but their talents lie in killing, not saving people. If the Deep Eyes go in there they might very well spark another bloodbath and T'soni will be caught up in it. You on the other hand... Your first instincts are to be discreet and preserve life, and you've got the training, the skills, and the experience to pull off a rescue with minimal bloodshed."

**~[h+]~**

Jondum Bau continued: "The Normandy's logistical support will prove invaluable should things take a turn for the worse. Its complement of drones will provide reconnaissance and close air support, and its long range armaments will deal with anything heavier than a Geth... what did you call them?"

"Juggernauts," answered Anderson.

"Yes, Juggernauts." Finally, you will provide me with a fireteam of your best marines for assistance."

"That's a lot of demands, there... Are you expecting a war?"

"Nihlus' mistake was not expecting one, and I do not intend to follow him to the grave. Do you have a problem with my demands? I would think that the chance to thwart Saren Arterius would be...compensation enough?"

"...And you would be right. Almost. I have one condition."

"...Fair enough. Name it."

"I get to accompany you on the ground."

"I... was not aware that Human ship captains took part in groundside missions. Is this some kind of Human naval tradition?"

Anderson shrugged. "It worked for Starfleet."

Bau became confused. "I don't know what that is."

"Never mind, it was a bad joke."

"I see. In any case, between your N7 training, experience and your Spectre candidacy, I doubt you'll be a hindrance. Your condition is fair, I accept." Jondum held out his hand. "I look forward to working with you, Captain Anderson."

Anderson shook his hand. "Likewise. I'll order my helmsman to set course for Caleston immediately."

**~[h+]~**

Jensen still had one issue to address. "I have one condition-"

"The Turian?" asked Hein.

"_Garrus Vakarian_, yes. I want him watching my back on this op."

"Hm, I'd much rather you took on this operation with my stealth specialist. You've met her. Ponytail, likes knives?"

"...Your bodyguard."

"Yes. Jane Proudfoot is as quiet as a mouse and knows how to stay out of sight: she will have no problem keeping up with you in the dark. On the other hand, the Deep Eyes' designated marksman, Neil Fleming, will be preoccupied with flying the Copperhead, so they'll be needing someone to take his place. I'm thinking Mr Vakarian will be more than adequate for the job?"

"...There's nobody better."

"Then there you have it! He'll pull his own weight around the ship and I won't have to toss him out of the airlock! So, to sum it up: Room, board, transportation and healthcare for you and your friends, in exchange you give me your body (for science, naturally) and your services, and as a bonus _I_ get a high-caliber marksman and _you_ get to play Don Quixote! Everybody wins!" Hein held out his hand. "Do we have accord, mister Jensen?"

Jensen looked at Hein's hand as if he was eyeing a venomous snake, but shook it anyway. There were now two lives depending on him cooperating with Hein, after all.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Hein. "I can feel this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, mark my words!"

**~[h+]~**

In the dark reaches of the Terminus systems floated the _Sovereign, _and deep within the mighty vessel sat Saren, meditating in the Shrine. The orb's voices whispered in Saren's mind, promising the power to take revenge on the race that had taken so much from him... If only he'd let them in.

If only...

No.

He would not surrender all of his will to them.

He could feel Benezia's presence behind him. She had something to tell him, something important.

He pressed a button on his armrest, wrapping the huge dark sphere in a thick layer of liquid metal. Benezia politely cleared her throat, and he swiveled his chair, turning to face her.

"My lord," said Benezia, taking a short bow out of humility, "My spies have confirmed Manah's presence on Caleston. The University has called upon the Justicars to... loan them my daughter for her insights. They have found something that confounds them."

"What sort of artifact? A beacon?"

"An obelisk of unbreakable alabaster, engraved with bas-reliefs and decorated with silver insets. It does not emit the energies of a Beacon, and attempts to interface with it has yielded no success."

In other words, of no use to him. Still, Saren wished he could personally see to this extraction, if only to lay claim to this artifact... On the other hand, the map to the Shibboleth was still being deciphered, and the five Grimoires had already been gathered, their secrets yet to be uncovered. Satisfying his curiosity and his greed simply was not worth waking the Council from its slumber. A shame. "Hmph, no matter. I take it you wish to fetch her yourself?"

"I do. I do not trust that Wreav's Krogan will be able to contain her. Only _I_ can do it."

"Are you certain of that? You two did not leave on the most amicable of terms."

Benezia said nothing, betraying nothing of her feelings for her wayward daughter.

"Go, but take the Mask," commanded Saren, "just to be certain. Oh... and once she is under your thrall? See about bringing me this artifact. If nothing else it would be a welcome addition to my collection. If not, well... a pity. Let _nothing_ distract you from bringing her to me. Take as many Geth platforms as you need. Destroy everything that gets in your way and kill anyone that dares pursue you."

"As you wish, my Lord." Benezia bowed and took her leave.

Saren leaned back into his chair and relaxed. The only person that could have stopped him was dead, thanks to his allies, and soon he would have the means to unlock the true secrets of the Protheans. The Conduit would be his, and revenge would at last be within his grasp!

"Soon, brother." Saren said to the darkness, hoping that Desolas' spirit was listening to him, somehow. "Soon I will make the humans **pay**."

**~[h+]~**

**End of The Girl In Indigo Arc**

**Adam's adventures will continue in the Masque of the Black Queen**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manah sounds suspiciously luke Laura Bailey. Just picture her performance as Serah Farron in Final Fantasy XIII-2 and you'll know exactly what Manah sounds like.
> 
> Yan Lo is meant to represent a sharp contrast to other Mass Effect crossover fanfics and how the Alliance handled Shanxi. While, for example, the GDI in Peptuck's Renegade won the battle by the virtues of being badass and possessing overwhelming firepower, the Earth forces in this fic won by virtue of being COMPLETE AND UTTER BASTARDS.
> 
> If you liked this book and would like to support me doing more, considering becoming a patron at https://www.patreon.com/robotforge


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